


Pup of the Pack

by ms_superwhoavengelockgermany06



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Cuddles and fluff, Diapers, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Season 4 but slightly AU, Stiles is my little muffin angel baby, Teasing, Thumb-sucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 74,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2075391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_superwhoavengelockgermany06/pseuds/ms_superwhoavengelockgermany06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' scent has been...different lately, in a way Derek had only ever heard about. Once he hears of the changes Stiles has been going through, he's positive of what is going on - Stiles is becoming the pack pup, something that is rarely seen in most packs. Instead of telling Scott, Derek sits back and waits for him to figure it out...hopefully before Stiles just starts calling him 'Daddy.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Scent

Stiles was by no means a shy person, but he hated giving speeches in his professional communications class. He hated the way Ms. Winter would glare at him, like she was just waiting for him to screw up so she could fail him - it put him on edge more than he already was. However, today felt good. Stiles had an eloquent speech prepared and even memorized, planning on closing his eyes for the delivery of his masterpiece so he couldn't see Ms. Winter judging him. Nothing could go wrong. It was genius. 

Scott, on the other hand, had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He was pissed off at everything and to make things worse, he had a huge Algebra II test that he was far from prepared for in about ten minutes. To top it all off, Stiles was a ray of damn sunshine, only making Scott more angry. He understood that Stiles had ADHD and he liked school, but hell, did he have to be so happy? 

"Are we still on for studying after school? I know you need some help in Algebra and I wanted to ask you some questions for my journalism class -" Stiles babbled excitedly. 

"Stiles, shut up. I'll do whatever you want if you just sit there quietly for the next seven minutes." Scott growled, annoyed. 

"Someone is certainly pissy today." Malia mumbled. 

Stiles turned around in his seat, feeling a pang of unknown emotion. Scott was usually so nice to him - they were best friends, after all - even when he was angry. Maybe Stiles should just shut his mouth for a little while to avoid saying something wrong. He was pretty sure he was the reason Scott was upset. Malia elbowed Scott in the ribs. 

"You hurt his feelings, Scott. He just asked a question." Malia scolded. 

"He's being an annoying little shit. I just want some peace and quiet for five seconds without Stiles, damn it. He's too happy and I'm not in the mood." Scott said. 

"You've never had a problem with it before." 

"He's been really clingy today, Malia. He keeps hugging me and honestly? He's being an attention whore." 

"Mr. McCall! Ms. Tate! Since you're both so chatty, I guess you know the answer. What year did the Crusades begin?" The teacher asked, glaring. 

Scott and Malia looked at each other, then to the teacher. Neither had a clue what the answer was - who cared about the Crusades, anyway? Suddenly a piece of paper landed on Scott's desk. Scott opened it up to find a date written on it : 1095. He looked at Stiles' hunched form and knew that the date was the answer. 

"Uh, 1095, sir." Scott said. 

The teacher looked surprised. "Very good. Please do not talk during my lesson, though, Mr. McCall." He said, turning back to the board. 

Scott nodded in understanding before looking down at his notebook. Stiles always had his back - maybe he should apologize for snapping at Stiles. The brunette hadn't really done anything other than be in a good mood. Well, Scott felt like an ass. 

The bell rang and Scott looked up, prepared to give Stiles an apology, only to find that he was gone. Scott sighed - Malia was right, he _had_ hurt Stiles' feelings. With another sigh, Scott walked to Algebra II, wondering why Stiles was being so sensitive. 

Stiles sat in his desk, practically vibrating with excitement. He was ready to give this speech. He was going to kill it. The only thing that was bothering him was that Scott was mad at him, but after this period, he had a whole weekend to fix that. The bell rang and the last few students trickled in, taking their seats as Ms. Winter took her place in front of the chalk board. 

"Alright, class. We've got twenty speeches to get through and fifty minutes. Unless someone volunteers, you're getting volun-told." Ms. Winter barked. 

No one raised their hand and despite his confidence, Stiles didn't want to go first. That was a death sentence in this class - the first person always got critiqued the harshest. Ms. Winter looked around and her eyes landed on Kira. 

"Lucky you, Ms. Yukimura. You are our first speaker of the day. After you, Harrison will go, then Stilinski." Ms. Winter said, taking a seat at her desk. 

Stiles felt his heart beat faster and his palms became sweaty. He was going _third?_ Three was an unlucky number! Stiles tried to calm himself in every way he could think of, telling himself he was worried over nothing. Suddenly, he didn't feel so good about giving his speech. There was too much pressure, yet no adrenaline like when he was working on cases. Before Stiles knew it, Kira's speech had ended and Harrison's had begun. The clock was ticking loudly, like it was counting down to whatever horrors awaited him during his presentation. 

"We're waiting, Mr. Stilinski." Ms. Winter said, vexed. 

"Uh, yes ma'am." Stiles said, making his way to the front of the room. 

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to focus as he delivered the first line. 

"Grocery prices in the United States have steadily risen over the past decade as availability has decreased and demand has increased." Stiles said. 

After the first line, things settled down and Stiles wasn't on the verge of a panic attack anymore. Well, he wasn't until he felt something warm and wet between his thighs and a roar of laughter erupted from his peers. Stiles' eyes flew open and he looked down at himself, a choked noise escaping him as he saw the large wet spot on the front of his jeans. Without wasting another second, Stiles ran out of the classroom and into the nearest bathroom, thoroughly humiliated. 

****

Scott waited outside Ms. Winter's class for Stiles, a megawatt smile on his face. He had gotten an A on his Algebra II test! His bad mood was officially gone - now all that was left was to apologize to his best friend and have a great weekend. However, Stiles never came out of the classroom. Scott decided to give the hyperactive teen five more minutes before he went looking for him. He could smell Stiles from in the classroom, but the room also reeked of embarrassment and fear, as well as nineteen other students who were highly amused by something. Finally, Scott just walked into the classroom, hoping Stiles was still there.

"Mr. McCall. Looking for your friend?" Ms. Winter asked. 

"Yes ma'am. Do you, uh, happen to know where he is?" Scott asked. 

"My best guess is the bathroom down the hall. Tell him I'll give him the chance to present his speech again Monday, please." 

"Sure. Thanks, Ms. Winter." 

Scott exited the room and jogged towards the bathroom, a frown forming on his face. Stiles practically had a bladder of steel - he could hold it for hours - thanks to the Coach and his tendency to ignore Stiles when he expressed a need to do anything. Maybe Stiles wasn't feeling well, or maybe Scott had upset him so much that he started crying. Scott pushed open the door to the bathroom with a sigh. 

"Stiles? Hey, dude, you in here?" Scott called. 

There was no response, but Scott didn't exactly need one. He could smell Stiles and hear his heartbeat - the brunette was in here. Scott put down his backpack and began opening each stall until he reached one that was locked. Sniffing the air, Scott bristled. Stiles' scent was mixed with someone else's, someone not in the pack. Scott knocked on the stall door. 

"Stiles? Are you okay? The bell already rang." Scott said. 

"Go away." Came Stiles' response. 

"I'm sorry I got mad at you, Stiles. I was just in a bad mood earlier. Come out, dude." 

"No. I think its nice in here. Some drapes and a mini fridge and I'm golden." 

"Stiles, you're crying. Do I need to crawl under the door? Because I will if you don't open up." 

Scott wasn't rewarded with the door opening, so he decided to make good on his threat. Lying on the floor, Scott slid into the stall and sat next to Stiles, who jumped. 

"Oh my God, Scott, can't you just take no for an answer? I don't want to talk to you! Leave me alone! Stop fucking sniffing me!" Stiles screeched. 

"You smell weird." Scott blurted. 

"Thanks, you furry asshole." 

"No, I mean you reek of someone I don't know and piss." 

"So?" 

"Stiles, stop it. You know how much I hate it when you act like nothing is ever wrong and nothing ever bothers you. We're best friends. Whatever happened, I can help." 

Scott put a hand on Stiles' shoulder and gave his friend a smile. He wanted Stiles to be happy again. The warmth of Scott's touch made Stiles shiver with unknown emotion - something between safety and contentment - and suddenly threw himself at Scott. He began telling Scott everything that had happened, from his accident to the random guys that had started teasing him and pushing him around because of said accident. It felt so good to tell Scott everything. 

"It's okay, Stiles. These things happen. Just change into your gym clothes and we'll go home." Scott said. 

"Okay. Thank you, Scott. I'm sorry I'm such -" Stiles said. 

"Don't even say it. You're not. Hurry up and maybe we'll stop for curly fries." 

That got Stiles' rear in gear. Scott crawled out of the stall and laughed as he heard Stiles talk to himself as he changed. 

****

Derek showed up at the Stilinski household, jumping onto the roof right by the window to Stiles' room which was - fuck, does Stiles ever listen? - wide open. Crouching down, Derek stayed silent, sniffing the air for a few moments. He caught Scott's scent, which wasn't unusual, but there was something off about the scent Stiles was giving off. It was sweeter than usual, tinged with innocence and trust. Derek wasn't sure whether or not he was okay with that.

Climbing into the room, he sat in a chair and waited to be noticed. Stiles was shoving curly fries into his mouth, trying to talk to Scott, while Scott worked on something in a textbook. Derek shook his head. How was Stiles not fat? The kid ate twenty times a day. Derek sniffed the air again, smelling the same odd scent that Stiles seemed to be giving off. He wondered why Scott - who might as well be mated to Stiles - wasn't going crazy. It was driving Derek mad. 

"Need something, Derek?" Scott asked, not looking at the other werewolf. 

Derek ignored him in favor of looking at Stiles. "Give me your shirt." Derek ordered. 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "If you wanna see me naked, all you have to do is-" He said sarcastically. 

"Give. Me. Your. Shirt. NOW." 

Stiles rolled his eyes, but took off his shirt and tossed it to Derek, who started to sniff it. Stiles passed it off as a wolf thing and went back to his homework and food. Finally, Scott finished his worksheet on quadratic equations and was ready to help Stiles with his assignment. Derek was still sniffing the shirt, his eyebrows furrowed in some unknown emotion. Stiles started asking Scott questions about the lacrosse team - despite being on it himself - and his classes, trying to get enough information for his article in the school's newspaper. 

"Come here, Stiles." Derek said. 

"I'm busy, sour wolf." Stiles said. 

"Now." 

"Jesus, fine. If I fail this assignment, I'm blaming you." 

Stiles got up and stood in front of Derek, arms crossed over his bare chest. Derek stood and started to sniff Stiles' body, starting with his neck and wrists, where his pulse was strong. Stiles whined. Derek was acting like a creep - more so than usual. Why was everyone sniffing him? He took a shower and put on deodorant - he couldn't smell that bad. 

"Derek, you're freaking him out. Stop being a freak." Scott said. 

"You smell different. Why?" Derek growled. 

"How should I know? I'm don't have super senses like you, asshole." Stiles snapped. 

Derek and Stiles glared at each other for what seemed like hours. Derek had the urge to reprimand Stiles like he was a pup - grab him by the scruff of his neck and put him in timeout or spank him. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in his head. He stepped towards the window and climbed out. 

"Pack meeting tomorrow." Derek said quickly, jumping off the roof. 

****

Scott ended up staying the night at Stiles' place. Stiles had fallen asleep around nine - way early than usual - on the floor, his butt in the air. Scott always wondered how Stiles could sleep in some of the positions he did. He had stayed up until about two in the morning, his mind racing over what happened between Derek and Stiles. Did Stiles really smell different? Scott hadn't noticed. Stiles just smelled like Stiles - warm and friendly and mischievous and intelligent. It made Scott feel like a crappy friend. What if Stiles' scent had changed because he was in trouble or he felt unwanted or unsafe? Looking over at the brunette, Scott sighed. He shouldn't feel so awful. Stiles would say something if he felt that way.

"Scott. I didn't know you stayed over." Sheriff Stilinski said, peeking into his son's room. 

"Sorry. It just kind of happened. Stiles didn't want to be alone." Scott said, wincing. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. 

"No big deal. You know you're always welcome here. Why is Stiles on the floor?" 

"He just fell asleep there." 

"Of course he did. He can't do anything like a normal kid, can he?" 

Scott laughed. "No." 

"Well, I'm going to go get some sleep. You two don't burn the house down." 

"You confiscated the matches after the science fair of freshman year." Stiles muttered. 

Sheriff Stilinski simply shook his head and walked out of the room. It was too early for that argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it good? Should I continue? You guys know best!


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles wanted hugs. Many, many hugs. Right now, from Scott and Derek and Liam - anyone in his pack, really. However, that want was put on the back burner as he was handed a menu. He hadn't eaten since the night before and he was starved because Derek want to have his 'pack meeting' at the ass crack of dawn and Stiles hadn't been able to eat breakfast before Scott was dragging him out the door. And by pack meeting, Stiles meant a 'let's sniff Stiles and make him uncomfortable so Derek can make broody faces' meeting that had been absolutely _useless_. He was just happy he was getting food out of the deal. Deciding on curly fries and a burger, Stiles put his menu down and simply sat, tapping the fork against the table and jiggling his leg up and down. 

Scott sat by Kira, one arm draped across her shoulders. Dating her was a dream come true. She was gorgeous and smart, patient and kind - everything Scott could ever want in a girl. She had a tendency to get a little jealous when he was with Stiles, but he chalked that up to the relationship still being fairly new. Right now, Kira had a hand on Scott's thigh, squeezing gently in a way that made Scott bite his lip to keep from letting out a string of curses and dirty phrases. Luckily, Scott caught a whiff of Stiles, smelling the desperation on the brunette. It provided a good distraction - he really didn't need an erection right this second. 

"You okay, Stiles?" Scott asked. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you ever wonder why forks have four prongs? Why not two? Or eight? Or ten? I think I would like a ten pronged fork. I would probably marry a ten pronged fork." Stiles babbled. 

"Stiles, you're avoiding the question." 

"Am not. I gave you an answer." 

The two bickered for a few more moments until Derek put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. The teen turned to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. Derek was touching him? Would he hug him, too? Stiles would like that. Derek could feel Stiles' heartbeat speed up, as if he were hoping for something. He could smell the desperation Stiles was giving off, which Scott had obviously caught as well. Derek knew it was the perfect opportunity to test his theory about what was going on with Stiles. His father used to always tell him stories about how pheromones could influence changes in a pack member - the pack member's pheromones would mix with the pheromones of the rest of the pack's, causing physical, emotional, and mental changes. Sometimes, this could mean that the pack had chosen an Omega, but Derek was certain that wasn't what was happening with Stiles. He had an idea about what was happening though, but until he could test his hypothesis, he would keep his mouth shut. Wrapping one arm around Stiles, Derek gave him a hug, take a mental note of the way Stiles' heartbeat slowed and the stench of desperation disappeared. Scott raised an eyebrow while Kira and Lydia shared a confused look. Since when was Derek affectionate? And with Stiles, of all people. Stile wiggled his way out of Derek's embrace. He hated the way people were looking at him. Stiles felt small under the stares and was grateful to every god he didn't believe in when the waiter came to take their order. 

****

"Stiles, buddy, you gotta start sleeping in your bed. The floor is not good for you, and you're too tall for the couch. We did buy you a bed so you could _sleep_ in it." Sheriff Stilinski said, sprinkling baking soda over the patch of urine on the couch.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I just fell asleep and I'll pay to have the cushions cleaned. Promise! I'll sleep in my bed every night from now on. This," Stiles gestured at the couch, "Won't happen again." 

The Sheriff stood and sighed. He could have sworn Stiles had outgrown his bed-wetting stage. Yet here he, John Stilinski, stood, cleaning the couch so the urine wouldn't stain it or make it smell like hell. He couldn't bring himself to scold Stiles about it, though. After the Nogitsune and everything else, at least it was bed-wetting and not alcohol or drugs or something equally as horrifying. 

"Don't worry about it, son. It's just a couch. I'm more worried about the whole - you know. How long has that been going on?" John asked. 

"Just this once." Stiles said, worrying his lip as he looked at the couch guiltily. 

"Stiles Stilinski, don't you dare lie to me." 

"Well, I kind of had an accident during speech class. But it totally wasn't my fault! I was, like, freaking out and I was super focused on my speech -" 

"Are you sure that's it?" 

"Yep. Nothing else. Cross my heart." 

John sighed and sent Stiles to go get dressed. He really hoped this was just some kind of one - two - time thing. The last thing Stiles needed to worry about was having accidents when he was running with werewolves and banshees and shit. 

"Hey, Sheriff." Scott greeted, walking into the kitchen. 

"Scott. Stiles taking you to school?" John asked. 

"Yeah. Where is he?" 

John pointed at the stairs and Scott nodded, taking them two at a time. Peeking into his best friend's room, he found Stiles dressing. Scott sat in the desk chair and spun around. Ever since the accident at school, Scott felt a need to be around Stiles, no matter what the other boy was doing. Something told him that Stiles needed him to help him, to protect and take care of him. Finally, Stiles caught sight of Scott and jumped. 

"Oh my God! Where the hell did you come from? Can't you, like, howl or something to announce your presence like regular werewolves?" Stiles hissed. 

"You looked busy." Scott said with a smirk. 

"I was _getting dressed_. Jesus, you and Derek need to get some. I don't want you two masturbating to my naked body. Oh fuck, bad image." 

"Right, because I don't have a hot girlfriend to masturbate to. Come on, let's get going." 

Stiles followed Scott down the stairs and out the door, waving to his dad as they passed through the kitchen, one hand gripping the back of Scott's shirt tightly. John raised an eyebrow, but let it go. Stiles and Scott had always been physically close with each other. Waving back, John went back to the file he had been reading. 

School was hell. Stiles used to like it, but after what happened Friday, he hated it. People kept staring and snickering at him as he walked down the hall, whispering about him in class. It made him feel insecure, despite Scott and Malia telling him not to worry about anyone else, that he was still the Stiles they knew and loved, no matter what. It didn't help that his old nickname of 'spaz' was being thrown around again. By the time lacrosse practice came around, Stiles was ready to let out some of his pent up hurt and anger, but not by playing lacrosse. The universe hated him, so the minute he got into the locker room, tears started pouring down his face and Stiles couldn't stop them. 

_Stop, damn it, stop, stop, stop! I can't do this - not here, not now! Why am I even crying? Its not even that bad. Where's Scott? I want Scott!_ Stiles thought, trying to wipe away his tears. He knew that the teasing didn't matter, that taking a few shoves and punches was no big deal, but he had never felt so hopeless or helpless in his entire life. He needed Scott or Malia or Derek, _someone_ to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be okay. 

"Oh, look. Stiles the spaz is crying. What's a matter, spaz? Gonna wet yourself again?" Garrett teased. 

"He's probably missing his boyfriend. Where's Scott, Stilinski?" Another player, Carlos, asked. 

"Probably doesn't want to be seen with a loser like Spazlinski." 

Garrett and Carlos shared a high-five, continuing to tease Stiles until someone shoved Garrett against the lockers with a growl. Stiles looked over to see Liam, who had Garrett pinned to the lockers by his throat. The freshman snarled at the blonde. 

"He is not a spaz!" Liam thundered. 

"Dunbar! What the hell are you doing? Get off of him! And damn it, Stilinski, where's McCall?" Coach Finstock yelled. 

Liam gave one last growl before backing off, stepping towards Stiles. Coach Finstock's eyes landed on Stiles face and he just shook his head. He always ended up with the freaks. 

Liam helped Stiles up and herded him towards the shower area, pushing him into one of the showers and closing the curtain. Stiles was still crying in a way Liam thought wasn't even possible. Did Stiles even have any tears left? 

"Stiles, take a deep breath. You're going to hyperventilate. I'm here. Uh-" Liam paused, trying to remember the methods they had taught him in anger management, "Just calm down. Count backwards from ten." 

Nothing. Stiles' breath was coming out in short, breathless gasps that were starting to really worry Liam. The brunette racked his brain for something, anything, to calm Stiles down. Suddenly, he grabbed Stiles' hand and placed it over his heart. Stiles' tears let up a bit, not much, but enough to be considered progress. Taking a step, Liam wrapped his arms around Stiles and hoped the older teen didn't punch him. 

Scott walked into the locker room, tossing his backpack onto a bench before opening his locker to grab his gear. His Algebra II class had gone overtime thanks to a stupid sophomore trying to be a sarcastic little shit and he could only imagine what Coach was going to do to him because he was late. Quickly stripping himself of his clothes, Scott dressed in his uniform and put on his pads. He wondered where Stiles was - the brunette always waited for him and his scent was still strong in the room. He had to be in here. Suddenly, Scott heard voices coming towards him. Whipping his head up, he saw Stiles walk around the corner with Liam, who had an arm around Stiles' shoulder. Scott growled. Liam had no right to touch Stiles like that, to coat Stiles in his scent. Scott shook his head. Where had that come from? 

****

Derek slammed his book shut before standing up, running a hand through his hair. How could he have missed the obvious answer? He had been watching Stiles since Friday, trying to gather his information, put his ducks in a row. Stiles had been wetting the bed, sucking his thumb in his sleep, being oversensitive. When added to the change in his scent, the puzzle went from a blur to a crystal clear picture. The pheromone hypothesis was correct, but not in the way Derek had originally thought.

Fuck, he was an idiot. 

He hadn't taken cues from the pack. He hadn't acknowledged to new found protectiveness over Stiles, the urge to coddle him, or his own urge to punish Stiles when he had stepped out of line. It had been there all along. 

Stiles was becoming the pack pup.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles sat on the floor in Scott's room, knees pulled to his chest as he rocked back and forth. Scott was sleeping soundly on the bed, making Stiles whimper. If Scott wasn't scared, he wasn't scared, either. He was seventeen! He was old enough to drive and have sex and go to parties. He was old enough not to be terrified because of a dumb game.

_Crash!_

Nope. Stiles was petrified. Screw pretending to be brave. Biting down on his lip, Stiles tried not to cry. Scott would wake up if he thought Stiles was in trouble. Pulling himself to his feet, Stiles quietly tiptoed to the door and peeked out into the darkness of the hallway. The coast seemed clear, so Stiles began to make his way to the kitchen. A warm glass of milk would make everything okay. 

Stiles stopped in his tracks. Since when did he drink warm milk? What the hell was happening to him? 

_Crash!_

Stiles jumped, turning around at break-neck speed. There was no one there. Probably just the trees banging against the window and trying to scare the crap out him. No big deal. A few minutes and another crash later, Stiles ran back to Scott's room and wedged himself into a corner, tears running down his face. He couldn't be brave and now Scott was going to wake up and laugh at him for crying like a baby instead of just seeing where the noise was coming from. Tucking his thumb into his mouth, Stiles sucked, wishing he could stop his heart from racing. 

"Stiles?" A voice asked quietly, sending the brunette into another round of nearly hysterical crying. 

"Stiles, calm down. It's just me, it's Scott. Wow, you smell like piss -" The voice - Scott's voice - said. 

That made Stiles cry harder. He knew Scott would tease him. It wasn't his fault, though! It wasn't Stiles' fault his bladder suddenly has a mind of its own or that he had overactive tear ducts or that he really just wanted a big glass of warm milk and a lullaby! Rubbing his eyes angrily, Stiles bit his lip and looked up at Scott, whose head was cocked rather adorably, a confused look on his face. 

"You got up just to tell me that I smell like piss? Good to know your werewolf senses aren't crapping out on me." Stiles snapped. 

"That's not what I meant, Stiles. I could hear your heartbeat and it was crazy, like you were scared. Let me fix it - whatever has my Stiles so scared, I can fix." Scott promised. 

"I'm not your Stiles. I'm fine, just - I -" 

Suddenly, Stiles' lip began to wobble, more tears filling his eyes. He couldn't lie to Scott, his best friend who loved him and wanted to help him. His best friend, whose voice could soothe him to sleep in an instant. His best friend, whose chest would make a good pillow. Stiles shook his head, whimpering at the pain it caused. Where were these thoughts coming from? Before Stiles could stop it, words were pouring from his mouth, a waterfall of useless babbling and sobbing as he clung to Scott like a koala. 

"And-And it went boom and crash and I-I was sc-scared and I didn't wanna wake you up because I'm a big boy and I help you fight bad guys like Batman and Robin and I bet Batman never, ever gets scared like me and I-I such a big - a big sissy." Stiles cried. 

Scott sighed softly as Stiles collapsed against his chest, exhausted from his terror and confession. Rubbing Stiles' back in soothing circles, Scott hummed softly, smiling slightly as Stiles' eyes began to droop. He didn't even care about the small boy's urine-damp pants as he settled back, allowing Stiles to get comfortable as he fell asleep, thumb finding its way to his mouth once more. 

****

The next few day were rather awkward. Stiles did his absolute best to avoid Scott, which, in turn, meant he could avoid talking about Saturday night. However, Beacon Hills High School was only so big, so by the time Stiles had to go to history, he knew there was no escaping Scott. Sliding into his desk, Stiles took out his pen and began to chew on it absently, enjoying the stress relief it provided. Scott sat silently in the desk beside his best friend, trying to hold his tongue. Stiles had to come to him. He knew better than to push Stiles, because Stiles would only close up more. Even with that in mind, Scott tapped Stiles on the shoulder and began speaking. 

"Dude, are you okay? Did I piss you off or something? Because you've been avoiding me. And I hate it." Scott said. 

"I've just been busy, Scott. Some of us actually do our schoolwork and actually have to practice to be good at lacrosse." Stiles said. 

"Bullshit. You're purposely staying as far away from me as you can. Is this about what happened Saturday? Because I already -" 

"What happened Saturday?" Malia asked curiously. 

"Nothing." Stiles replied hastily. 

"Stiles came over to my house and some stuff happened. Stuff I told him not to worry about." Scott said. 

Stiles blushed as Malia looked between he and Scott. She sniffed at Scott and a smirk appeared on her face. Scott reeked of Stiles' scent. Whatever happened had to have been interesting. 

"Well, I wouldn't let Kira smell you. You smell like you're wearing a Stiles cologne." Malia said to Scott. 

Scott rolled his eyes. Kira wasn't the jealous type. She knew he and Stiles were just friends and nothing else. Malia was just being her usual weird self. Stiles, however, cringed at the thought of Scott smelling like him. He didn't want to cause his friend any trouble. He didn't want to be a bad boy for his pack. Stiles shook his head. 

His lack of sleep must be playing some kind of game with his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work, but here you guys go!


	4. Chapter 4

Danny usually kept his distance from Scott and Stiles, especially since he found out about the whole werewolf thing. He kept his mouth shut, his head down, and silently grieved over Ethan. Of course, he couldn't avoid them completely. They had classes together and lacrosse together and there were weekend practices. It was as if some unknown force demanded that Danny spend time with Scott and Stiles. Honestly, the whole thing was rather ridiculous.

Now that it was Friday and Saturday's game had been moved, Danny couldn't wait to go home. Shoving his gear into his bag, Danny slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking towards the door. As he walked passed Stiles and Scott, he couldn't help but overhear their conversation. 

"You're still going to come over, right? My dad said we could get pizza." Stiles said. 

"You know it. Just me, you, and some video games all weekend." Scott said, giving Stiles a fist bump. 

Stiles and Scott grinned at each other. Stiles untied his shoes as he continued to talk to Scott, unaware that Garrett was coming up behind him. Danny scowled. There wasn't a single person on the team that he hated more than that blonde bastard. 

"So, sleepover at your house tonight, Spazlinski?" Garrett mocked. 

"Not for you." Stiles sassed. 

"That's too bad. I think the team could use some bonding time." 

Stiles blushed as Garrett's hand settled on his shoulder. He hated the way it felt. "Just go away, Garrett. Go kick some puppies or whatever you do in your spare time." 

"Come on, Spazlinski, I want to party. Afraid you'll disappoint Daddy?" 

"Hey, why don't you back off?" Danny hissed. 

Stiles looked up at Danny, then to Scott. Why didn't Scott stick up for him? They were best friends! Danny didn't even talk to Stiles that often, and when he did, it was usually to tell him to shut up. Garrett smirked. 

"Hey, sleepover at Stilinski's place tonight!" Garrett yelled. 

Everyone in the locker room cheered as Stiles groaned. His dad was going to murder him. 

****

"Alright. You have my number if you need it. Just please, for the love of God, don't let them destroy the house." John said to Derek. 

"I will keep everything under control." Derek said. 

"Thank you. I have to go. Stiles, I'm leaving." 

Derek heard Stiles running down the hall, then the stairs. The teen stumbled on the last step and fell flat on his face, but he got right back up and ran to John, hugging the sheriff with a smile. John smiled and ruffled Stiles' hair. Derek watched as John talked to Stiles, telling the teen to have fun. 

"I'm really sorry, Dad, I didn't plan this. I swear." Stiles said. 

"I know that, kiddo. I'm not upset with you. If the house is a mess when I get home, though, I might be." John said. 

Stiles nodded. "I'll clean up, promise." 

"Good boy. Behave yourself, alright?" 

"Okay, Dad." 

John gave Stiles one more hug before heading out the door and leaving Stiles to his own business. As the door clicked shut, Stiles' lip began to tremble. Where was his dad going? Was John leaving him forever? The thought had tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want to be stuck with Derek for the rest of his life! Derek raised an eyebrow, confused by what was going on. Was Stiles seriously crying? Derek had never seen the brunette cry and now Stiles was bawling like a baby. 

Suddenly, Derek understood. Stiles was experiencing separation anxiety, a common trait in pups. Mentally filing the fact away, Derek began trying to comfort Stiles. People soothed babies when they were upset, right? 

"Stiles, your dad will come back. He just went to work." Derek soothed. 

Stiles glared up at Derek. "I know that! I'm not stupid!" He snapped. 

"I didn't say you were. Calm down." 

"Stop it! Stop talking to me like that! I'm not three years old!" 

"I know, Stiles. You're upset. Use your words." 

Stiles let out a scream of frustration. Derek wasn't listening to him! He wasn't a toddler and he hated that Derek was speaking to him like he was. Why didn't Derek understand that he just wanted his Dada to come home? He wanted to watch a movie and cuddle and his Dada just left him alone- 

Stiles ran a hand through his hair angrily. Where had that even come from? It was no wonder why Derek thought he was a baby. More tears poured down Stiles' face as he sat on the floor and rested his head against the door. Derek sighed. How was he supposed to fix this? Deciding that physical contact was his best bet, Derek sat by Stiles and rubbed his back in small circles. His heart ached as he watched Stiles cry. Seeing his pup in so much emotional distress was torture. Derek liked that, though - _his_ pup. He needed to care for Stiles just as much as Stiles needed to be cared for. 

After about twenty minutes, the doorbell rang, causing Stiles' head to snap up. Derek quietly stood and offered a hand to Stiles, helping the teen to his feet. Stiles looked up, eyes locking with Derek's. Derek had made sure that he was okay, and he had yelled at him. Stiles had to be the world's biggest jerk. Stiles flung himself into Derek's arms, wrapping his own around the older man's waist. 

"Go clean up while I get the door. We'll call your dad later, so you can say goodnight. Is that okay?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded, heading towards the stairs. It was going to be a long night. 

****

It was nine o'clock, and the party was in full swing. 

Someone had started up the XBox and a Call of Duty competition had begun, which had everyone cheering and shouting. Empty pizza boxes and Cheetos littered the floor, there was some kind of dance-off going on, Scott and Kira were making out on the couch, and Liam was nowhere to be seen, which had Derek worried. He didn't trust Liam any farther than he could throw him - which was pretty far, but that was besides the point. Liam was too aggressive and there was a good chance he could hurt somebody, a good chance that he could hurt Stiles. 

Derek growled at the thought. Stiles was in no position to defend himself. Pups relied on their pack, on their loved ones to protect them. It was Derek's job - _Scott's_ job, as an Alpha - to make sure Stiles was happy and healthy. Walking into the living room, Derek scanned the sea of teens for Liam, spotting him in front of the TV with a game controller in his hands. Well, at least he wasn't MIA anymore. 

"Come on, Dunbar! You're playing like a pussy!" Garrett teased. 

Derek sighed. He absolutely didn't miss all this teenage bullshit. After another ten minutes of profanity and a virtual body count higher than any actual body count Derek had ever seen, Liam was declared the victor and the controller was passed to two new players. Liam sat by Stiles and discreetly put his hand over the brunette's. Derek raised an eyebrow. This was new. 

"Are you okay, Stiles?" Danny asked softly, noticing the way Stiles was rubbing his eyes. 

"Huh? Oh, I'm good. Great. Fantastic. Just hungry. I'm going to go get some pizza." Stiles said in a rush. 

"I'll come with you." Liam and Danny offered simultaneously. 

Stiles was too tired to protest as both boys stood and walked with him to the kitchen. It was kind of nice actually - Stiles had never had a lot of friends and now Danny and Liam wanted to hang out with him. It made him feel special. 

"Is everything okay?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded, but Derek could see right through it. Stiles was exhausted and it was high time he went to bed. 

"You look tired, Stiles. Maybe you should just get some sleep." Danny said. 

"Come on, I'm seventeen. I could stay up until one in the morning if I wanted to." Stiles scoffed. 

"Doesn't mean you have to. Come on, we'll make sure no one draws on your face." Liam said. 

Stiles yawned. Sleep did sound like a good idea. However, he needed to call his Dada. He couldn't go to sleep without telling his Dada goodnight." 

"I need to call my Dada - my dad. I need to call Dad." Stiles said. 

"Go call and then go to bed. Your dad will kill me if you drop dead from sleep deprivation." Derek joked. 

Stiles nodded and headed up the stairs to his room. 

****

Danny was finally getting to play his round of Call of Duty and he couldn't even focus. All he could think about was how weird Stiles was being. Getting tired so early, calling his dad Dada - it wasn't normal, but Danny was used to weird now. What really bothered him was how being around Stiles made him feel. 

He wanted to take care of Stiles. He was worried about the brunette and he wanted to shield him from the world of horror he had been introduced to. The whole thing made Danny want to scream. He had thought that with Ethan gone, he had cut ties with crazy werewolf bullshit. 

Apparently, he was wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

"Stiles, you need to see this. _Now._ " Lydia said, grabbing Stiles' wrist and dragging him along with her to the cafeteria.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, but followed willingly. He had learned long ago that one didn't argue with Lydia Martin when she was on a mission. Still, Stiles wondered what was so important. After a few minutes, the duo arrived at the cafeteria and Stiles' eyes widened. They were everywhere - huge prints of pictures of _him_ sucking his thumb, drinking juice boxes, snuggling under his blankets. The cherry on top? 

A picture of him crying, his pajama pants wet from an accident. 

Lydia turned to Stiles, her face soft with sympathy, a look she didn't sport often. Her heart went out to her friend. Stiles had never done anything to deserve this. Sure, he had a sharp tongue and he was a bit spastic, but underneath that, he was sweet. Lydia regretted that she had only figured that out a few months ago. Stiles' lip quivered dangerously, tears welling in his eyes. He knew this had to be Garrett's doing. Who else would want to destroy what little social life he had? 

"Stiles, I'm so sorry. Let's just go, okay? I shouldn't have -" Lydia said, hugging Stiles. 

"It's not your fault. It's mine. Something's wrong with me. That's it. I'm just a fuck up." Stiles said softly. 

"Stiles Stilinski, I won't listen to this crap. _You_ aren't a fuck up. The guys who did this? _They_ are the fuck ups." 

"Lydia, everything is so screwed up. I've been having accidents and there's the thumb sucking and the crying and everything is just going to shit." 

Lydia felt tears come to her own eyes. This was really bothering Stiles. It was eating him up, and that lit a fire within her that could only be quenched by finding out who did this and making them pay. After giving Stiles one more hug, Lydia marched to the front of the crowd that had gathered. Now that she was on her soapbox, no one was going to get her off. 

"Which one of you did this?" Lydia thundered. 

"You like the aesthetic quality, beauty queen? I'd love to take some candid shots of you." One boy catcalled. 

"Back off, freak show. I want to know who did this and I want to know _right goddamn now._ " 

Lydia ripped one of the posters off the wall and wadded it up, tossing it into the recycling bin. Just because she was angry didn't mean she wanted the environment to suffer. 

"Come on, I paid good money for those!" A voice called. 

"Aw, I'm sorry. Is this one of those 'I use large objects to compensate for my infinitesimal dick' type of things? Because yours must be very small." Lydia mocked, ripping another poster off the wall. 

Lydia walked around the cafeteria, ripping each poster off the wall, her rage increasing with every one she destroyed. Stiles was nowhere to be seen, which made Lydia's heart sink. The miscreants who did this had crushed Stiles. And she would crush them. 

****

Scott slid into the desk beside Kira's, a goofy smile on his face. She looked gorgeous today - her skirt was cut just right and her tanned legs were on display, making Scott's mind wander. What he wouldn't give to be between those legs right now. That would definitely be better than anything involving Coach Finstock's teaching. Scott would let Kira teach him about anatomy anytime, and he was one hundred percent positive he'd learn more from her that Finstock. 

Taking out his notebook, Scott began copying the first slide of notes. He needed to get his mind off of his girlfriend. His extremely _hot_ girlfriend. His extremely hot girlfriend who could wield a katana better than anyone he'd ever seen. His extremely hot girlfriend who liked things rough. 

Scott shook his head. _Focus, Scott, focus. You need to pass. Don't let Mom down,_ Scott thought. He put his pen back to the paper and tried once again to copy the notes. After he finished, he tried to focus on Coach Finstock's boring lecture that was littered with obscure movie references. Jesus, was time moving slower? Scott was beginning to doze off, his bordem getting the best of him, but a note landed on his desk, pulling him back into the land of the conscious. Opening the piece of paper, Scott smiled. 

**Meet me in the courtyard at lunch? - Kira**

Scott scribbled his message furiously before passing it back to Kira. 

**You got it, bae. - Scott**

Kira smiled and blew Scott a kiss. So this is what it was like to be in a relationship. It was great. 

"McCall, where's Stilinski?" Finstock barked. 

"I don't know, Coach. I haven't seen him all day." Scott said. 

"You see him, you tell me immediately. Got it? That goes for all of you little bastards." 

Everyone in the class nodded as Kira scowled. Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. Was he all anyone talked about? It wasn't that she hated him - she actually thought Stiles was pretty cool - she hated how Scott looked at him. Kira refused to play second fiddle to Stiles when it came to Scott's affection. Scott's was her boyfriend, for God's sake! She was supposed to be on the receiving end of Scott's puppy love eyes and his cute little smiles. Yet somehow, Stiles always came in first. It was annoying, actually. The only thing that made Kira feel better sometimes was that she got to have sex with Scott and Stiles didn't. Sighing, Kira tried to push the thoughts away. She knew the jealousy was a poison for both her romantic and platonic relationships. She didn't want to be one of those girls. 

But she did wish Scott would look at her like he looked at Stiles. 

****

Stiles was miserable. He had spent all day hearing the taunts and snickers of his peers and he hadn't seen Scott all day. That was the worst part. He needed comfort from Scott. Liam and Malia and Danny and Lydia were great, but he needed his Daddy. 

Stiles hissed. These fucking thoughts were driving him crazy. Where they were coming from, he didn't know, but they could go right back to the deepest pits of hell for all Stiles cared. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind because of the thoughts and Stiles hated how conflicted they made him feel. What was his life becoming? 

Stiles sat down with his lunch tray and picked up his bottle of water, screwing off the cap and taking a sip. Half of said sip dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. Stiles groaned. Was anything going to go right for him? 

"Looks like Stilinski needs a baby bottle for his water." Garrett teased as he walked past Stiles' table. 

"And a bib too, apparently." Carlos added, giving Garrett a fist bump. 

Stiles sunk down in his seat. They were right. He was a big, stupid baby. Lydia and Malia stood and stalked towards Garrett's table, determined to giving the blonde what for. Danny smiled softly at Stiles. 

"Hey, man, it's no big deal. We all have our quirks. I draw rainbows on everything - Coach made me restring my stick because I used rainbow threads." Danny joked, trying to make Stiles laugh. 

Danny failed. Stiles rubbed at his eyes to stop the tears from falling. He was so tired. He couldn't sleep - not since the Nogitsune - and the only thing that helped was having someone there with him. The last thing he needed, however, was to make people think that he really was a baby. He _wasn't_. He had always been extremely independent. It was his best quality. Liam came and sat down, growling softly to himself. Mason was being a dick and right now, he just wanted to eat his tuna sandwich and watch Mason crash and burn as he flirted with a hopelessly straight guy. 

"I will rip your heart out and bite it while it's still beating, do you hear me? You're a deer with a limp and I will take. You. Down." Malia snarled as Lydia tried to pull her away from Garrett. 

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. I'm not afraid of you." Garrett shot back. 

Malia and Lydia glared daggers at Garrett as they walked back to their table. Sitting down, Lydia stabbed at her salad, furious. 

"Is he always that unbearable?" Lydia asked. 

"Let me put it this way - Garrett's not just a prick. He's the whole damn cactus." Danny said. 

"No shit." Malia growled. 

Stiles squirmed in his seat. There was an uncomfortable pressure on his stomach and he didn't know what to do about it. He didn't feel like he needed to use the bathroom and he didn't need to burp, so Stiles had no idea how to fix it. Slamming his head against the table, Stiles decided to wait it out. After a few minutes, Stiles grunted, unaware of what his body was doing. He just knew that the pain in his stomach was going away and he was okay with that. 

After ten minutes, the pain was completely gone and Stiles sighed in relief. At least something went right today. Liam and Malia both sniffed the air, noses crinkling in disgust. 

"What is that smell? It's awful." Malia said. 

Everyone but Liam simply shrugged in response. Stiles squirmed again, eyes widening. He couldn't believe it. He'd had another accident, and not a wet one. He had messed himself. Stiles whimpered, looking around the table at his friends. Lydia and Danny both looked at him, heads cocked in confusion. Liam reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Stiles pushed his chair away. He didn't want comfort, didn't deserve it. He was seventeen years old and he had just crapped himself. That wasn't behavior that called for comfort - it called for upbraiding, for yelling and teasing. Taking his backpack, Stiles ran out of the cafeteria, ducking into the nearest bathroom. He whipped out his phone, dialing John's number quickly. John picked up on the first ring. 

"D-Daddy? I need you to pick me up." Stiles sobbed. 

"Why? Stiles, what's going on?" John asked frantically. 

"I had an accident." 

"Oh, Stiles, I know it sucks, buddy, but -" 

"Not a wet accident. A messy one. I'm so sorry, Dad, I-" 

"I'll be there in five, kiddo. Just calm down, okay? Daddy's going to come get you."


	6. Chapter 6

John had never driven so fast in his life. All he could think about was Stiles sitting in the corner of a filthy bathroom stall, waiting for him to help him, and John was letting him down. The thought made John curse himself - he wanted to be a better father to Stiles. He wanted to be there for his son, to be Superman to the little boy who had grown into a cynical teenager. He owed that to Stiles.

Pulling into the school's parking lot, John got out of his car and headed to the principal's office. When the secretary caught sight of him, she twirled her hair with her finger, smiling flirtatiously. John tried not to cringe. Being sheriff definitely had its downsides. 

"What can I do for you, Sheriff?" The secretary asked. 

"I need to pick up my son. Doctor's appointment." John said. 

"Oh, the Stiles kid? The poor boy is probably hiding. Teenagers can be so mean." 

John raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you mean?" 

"Somebody put up some," she lowered her voice, " _Personal_ pictures for everyone to see. All over the cafeteria. It was terrible." 

"And no one thought to call me? That's my _son._ " 

"Dad, let's go." Stiles said, coming into the office. 

John turned to look at his son. Stiles' face was tear stained, eyes red from crying. There was no argument as John quickly signed Stiles out and led him to the car. The brunette got into the back and curled up, trying to position himself to avoid a bigger mess. He just wanted to get cleaned up. That would make him feel better. _What would make me feel better is this all being a twisted nightmare,_ Stiles thought, looking at his hand. Five fingers. Damn. 

When John pulled up to the house, Stiles stumbled out of the car, tripping over himself in his haste to get inside. He had only one thing on his mind - taking a good, scalding hot shower. John made sure Stiles was squared away - to which he got a 'I'm not an invalid, Dad, Jesus, back off' - before calling Melissa. These accidents weren't coincidence anymore. Stiles needed to see a doctor, and Melissa was the only person he trusted with Stiles' medical care. 

"John, sweetheart, you know I love you, but I can't give you anything without a warrant." Melissa said. 

John snorted. "I haven't heard that before. But this isn't about work. It's about Stiles." 

Melissa sighed. "What did he break? What needs to be bandaged up? Why didn't Scott call me? That boy, I swear -" 

"Nothing's broken. This has nothing to do with Scott. Stiles has been having, uh, _accidents_ over the past few weeks." 

"Oh. _Oh._ Like nighttime or -" 

"Night and day. He's miserable, Melissa. I don't know what to do." 

"The general pediatrician is free this afternoon. He can see Stiles at one thirty." 

"Not a good idea. Stiles would kill me in my sleep." 

"Well, that's all I can give you. Stiles is technically still under the pediatric age range. Besides, the general M.D. is a prick. He would laugh in Stiles' face." 

John sighed. "Okay. We'll be there. Thanks, Melissa. I owe you one." 

"Don't even worry about." 

John thanked Melissa once more before hanging up. Now he had to break the news to Stiles, who hated doctors and medical facilities in general. John couldn't blame him, either. They reminded John of death and pain. Like father, like son, he supposed. 

When Stiles finally came downstairs, he was fresh out of the shower, clad in a pair of lacrosse shorts and one of John's t-shirts. John raised any eyebrow at the shirt. He could have sworn that he told Stiles to stay out of his room. 

"Is that my shirt?" John asked. 

"No, it's Robert Downey Jr.'s. Yes, it's yours, genius." Stiles sassed. 

John rolled his eyes. "Alright, sassy britches. Let's go." 

"Go where? Dad, don't make me go back to school. Please no." 

"You're not going back to school. We have an appointment." 

Stiles' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "An appointment with _who_?" 

"A doctor. Come on, car, let's go." 

****

Stiles refused to speak to Melissa when he and John got to the hospital, walking right past her and sitting in a chair. He couldn't believe she had allowed his dad to betray him in such a way. John shrugged in apology as he signed Stiles in. 

"Sorry. You know how he is." John said. 

"I'm sure the accident didn't help his mood. Hey, Stiles." Melissa called. 

"I can't hear you over the sound of your filthy backstabbing." Stiles replied. 

Melissa smiled at that. It was rude, yeah, but it was still funny. John walked over to the chair beside Stiles and sat down, not saying a word when Stiles turned away from him. He knew he was going to get the cold shoulder for awhile. Picking up a magazine, John flipped through it while he waited. He had already decided that he would go with Stiles to the exam room. He didn't trust Stiles to tell the doctor the truth. 

"Stilinski?" Asked a voice. 

"That's us. Up, Stiles." John said. 

"Only if you admit that your act of betrayal is ten times as great as Brutus'." Stiles said. 

John rolled his eyes. "Me making you a doctor's appointment is worse that Brutus stabbing Caesar?" 

Stiles nodded. 

"Fine. I'm the worst. Now get up." 

Stiles did as told, eyes glued to the ground as he walked into the examination room. He didn't want to be here. Doctors made him nervous - all they did was deliver bad news. 

"Hi, there. You must be Stiles. I'm Dr. Martinez, but you can call me Dr. M. Sound good?" Dr. Martinez, a Hispanic man of maybe thirty, asked. 

Stiles nodded. He refused to make eye contact. Dr. Martinez would probably turn him to stone. Dr. Martinez sat down in his desk chair, grabbing a clipboard and pen from his desk. 

"So, what seems to be the problem, Stiles?" He asked. 

"Nothing. Nada. I'm fine." Stiles said. 

"How about you, Papa? What's been going on to make you bring Stiles in?" 

"Stiles has been having accidents." John said simply. 

"I see. Nighttime accidents can be very worrisome, especially in kids Stiles' age." 

Stiles blushed a deep crimson. 

"Well, thing is - it's also daytime accidents." John said. 

Dr. Martinez's eyes widened. "Oh." 

Stiles hid his face behind his hands. This had to be the worst day of his life. Dr. Martinez stood in front of Stiles, putting on his stethoscope. Stiles began the dance. Breathe in, breath out, repeat. Stick out the tongue, say 'ah.' Thermometer in the ear, light shined in the eyes. 

"Everything sounds good, Stiles. Fit as a fiddle. And you're sure there's no abdominal pain or difficulty urinating?" Dr. Martinez asked. 

Stiles nodded. 

"How's everything at home and school? Any new stress? Maybe an important test or college applications or a death in the family?" 

Stiles bit his lip. There had been so many deaths. Allison. Ethan. Aiden. Isaac. Erica. Boyd. Stiles' breath quickened and he tried to think of other things. He couldn't freak out. Not here. Not now. Not ever. 

"Stiles, take some deep breaths. Everything's okay. I'm here, kiddo, it's okay." John soothed, rubbing Stiles' back. 

Dr. Martinez kept his distance. It was obvious now that the accidents were the result of something psychological. However, it seemed as though John had experience dealing with Stiles' panic attacks, so it was likely that John had already taken Stiles to see a psychologist or a therapist. After ten minutes, Stiles finally calmed, his face red from the lack of sufficient breath. 

"Well, there's nothing I can prescribe as far as medicine goes, but I would suggest increasing his magnesium and vitamin D intake. Also, and I know you won't like this, Stiles, but protection wouldn't hurt. It saves time on clean up and it makes things a little less embarrassing, especially with daytime accidents." Dr. Martinez advised. 

John nodded. "Got it, Doc. Stiles, why don't you go ask Melissa what foods are high in magnesium?" He asked, giving Stiles a look. 

Stiles took the hint and hustled out the door. He had wanted to get out of there from the moment he had walked in. John looked at Dr. Martinez, awkwardly coughing to catch the doctor's attention. 

"So, uh, what about messy accidents?" John asked. 

"Has Stiles been having those as well?" Dr. Martinez asked. 

"Today was the first time. I just - it worries me." 

Dr. Martinez smiled sympathetically. "I understand. You were right to bring him in. It may just be a stage. Be patient, Mr. Stilinski. That is what Stiles needs - understanding, patience, and comfort." 

John nodded. "Thank you, Doctor." 

"Not a problem, Sheriff. Bring him in if there are anymore concerns, okay?" 

"Yes sir." 

With that, John walked over to the counter where Melissa and Stiles were. Stiles still wouldn't look at Melissa, even as she slid a few stickers to him. John smiled. Melissa had remembered how much Stiles liked stickers - it meant a lot to John, and John knew it meant a lot to Stiles as well. Putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder, John waved to Melissa and led Stiles out the door. They had some shopping to do. 

****

Stiles looked at the display of pacifiers in front of him, lip caught between his teeth. He wouldn't admit it, but he wanted one. More specifically, he wanted the pale green one that was speckled with four-leaf clovers. If anyone needed luck, it was him. Taking the pacifier off the shelf, Stiles turned the package over in his hands. This was ridiculous. Why did he want a pacifier anyway? 

"Whatcha got there, Stiles?" John asked, walking up behind the brunette. 

Stiles jumped, hiding the pacifier behind his back. "Jesus, Dad, stalk much?" 

"Stiles, what do you have behind your back?" 

"Nothing. Don't worry about it, Dad. Can we go home? I'm hungry." 

John nodded. Stiles put back the pacifier quickly before shoving his hands in his pockets and speed walking away, leaving John to stare at the display in confusion. Why was his son looking at pacifiers? Picking up the one Stiles had been holding, John put it in the basket. Maybe it would help Stiles. He'd try anything at this point to make Stiles happy. 

****

When Stiles woke up Tuesday morning, there was a small wrapped package on his nightstand waiting for him. After poking it repeatedly, Stiles put it in his lap and began to open it. Underneath the paper was a pacifier, pale green speckled with clovers, and Stiles felt his heart swell with joy. On the back of the package was a simple note. 

_Stiles --_

 _Everyone has their own way of coping. If this is yours, that's okay. We'll be okay. I love you, kid._

 _

Love, Daddy

_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, three things.  
> One: I love lacrosse and I was super excited to write about it this chapter, so this goes out to my fellow lax bros.  
> Two: Get ready for feels, feels, and more feels.  
> Three: Lord Apollo, I can't thank all of you enough for all of the comments and kudos! I love that this story is widely read and loved and I'm glad I could write this for all of you. Thank you so, so much!

Bobby Finstock hated Devenford Prep. It was no secret - they were Beacon Hills' biggest rival. He trained his team for the sole purpose of destroying those prissy rich kids. Bobby turned to the scoreboard and groaned. It was five to zero, in Devenford's favor.

"Timeout! Hey! Hey, I said timeout!" Bobby barked. 

The referee blew his whistle, calling time. The teams went to their respective coaches, creating a huddle. Bobby looked around at his team. All the boys looked beat, minus Scott and Liam, and Kira was his golden girl. She could go all night. Maybe he should put them on defense - they would actually touch the other team instead of running like pansies. 

"Listen up. Greenberg, you're benched. Stilinski, you're in on defense. Speaking of defense, do your job! McCall's gonna get killed out there because you bastards don't want to get your hands dirty! I want to see some backs hit the ground, and not ours, got it?" Bobby ordered. 

"Yes, Coach!" The team chanted. 

"Go out there and kick some ass!" 

"Yes, Coach!" 

Another whistle signaled the end of the timeout and the teams took the field again. Stiles looked at the stands. Lydia and Malia were there, cheering louder than everyone else put together. Derek and - _ugh,_ Stiles thought - Peter were there, along with John and Jordan. That made Stiles smile. Everyone had come to see him and the other pack members play. It made Stiles want to win to make sure they didn't come for nothing. 

The game started back up with a bang. Beacon Hills won the face off, Scott running down the field with the ball. He passed to Liam, continuing on towards the goal. Another pass to Kira, then to Scott, who made it into the goal. One point for Beacon Hills. 

"That's what I'm talking about!" Bobby yelled, pumping a fist in the air. 

The ball goes to Devenford next. Liam runs towards a guy with 'TALBOT' written on his jersey, pure hatred in his eyes. Scott is after the ball, another Devenford player right on his tail. Stiles runs to protect Scott, slamming into the Devenford player, putting him on the ground. Garrett interferes with Talbot's pass, and the ball is back to Beacon Hills. 

Play after play, point after point, Beacon Hills was on their way to victory. Scott could smell the defeat on the Devenford players, and it was revitalizing. It made him feel powerful, like he could take on any team and win. Stiles, on the other hand, was running out of steam. His own strength had surprised him - he was putting guys twice his size on the ground - and now that all of the excitement of being part of the game and the adrenaline was wearing off, he was exhausted. His body ached from running and checking other players. Yet, he couldn't stop. He wanted to win and make his pack proud, his dad proud. 

It was the final five of the game. Scott leaned down for the face off, snarling at Talbot. This was it. After four years, Beacon Hills would finally have their revenge against Devenford. 

The whistle blew, Scott snatching the ball and sprinting down the field. He passed to Kira, making Stiles' heart race. She was surrounded - she had no way of passing and she was going to get taken down. Suddenly, the surge of energy was back and Stiles was running towards Kira, pushing over anyone in his way. He checked a guy coming in on her right, then one flanking her, giving her enough time to break away and run towards the goal. 

The entire crowd was on the edge of their seats as Kira ran for the goal, pulling her stick back to take a shot. When she let the ball fly, a silence fell over the field and the crowd. As the ball hit the net, the crowd jumped to their feet, cheering. Beacon Hills had won. Beacon Hills had _won_! Bobby was doing some kind of dance as the team huddled around him, sharing high-fives and fist bumps. 

"We're going to playoffs! It's the cream cheese! The cream cheese!" Bobby explained, slapping the back of Scott's helmet. 

Garrett and Carlos dumped the contents of the water cooler over Bobby's head, drenching him as the team cheered. Everything was perfect. Kira wrapped her arms around Scott's neck and kissed him, making Scott smile. Yep, definitely perfect. 

"You did it, Kira! You and Daddy did it!" Stiles exclaimed excitedly. 

Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth, realizing what he had just said. Scott was going to hate him. Their friendship was going to be over. Stiles began to panic as Scott put a hand on his shoulder and Kira worried her lip. 

"Stiles, dude, it's okay. We're all just caught up in the excitement and stuff." Scott said. 

Stiles looked up, making Scott's eyes widen. The eyes that he was looking into weren't Stiles' honey-brown orbs. 

They were purple. 

"Stiles, keep your head down. Derek! Derek!" Scott yelled. 

Stiles began to cry as Derek and the others raced over, crowding around him in a protective circle. It was all weighing down on him now. He had called Scott daddy, he had hurt people on the field, he had _killed_ people - every bad memory was coming back, flooding his mind. Stiles felt like he was drowning. He could barely breathe. 

"Stiles, look at me." Derek said, tilting Stiles' chin up. 

Stiles' eyes met Derek and Derek felt his stomach churn. Stiles' eyes - now a lavender color bordered with deep violet - were filled with tears of pain and sadness, small whimpers escaping his mouth. It made Derek sick to see his pup like this. 

"We need to get him to Deaton. Now. Scott, pick him up." Derek commanded. 

Scott leaned down to do as told, but when he touched Stiles, the brunette cried out, moving away from him. Scott's own eyes filled with tears. His best friend didn't even want him to touch him. 

"My, my, he certainly is a lively little pup, isn't he?" Peter teased, smirking at his nephew. 

Derek glared at his uncle. "Sheriff, take him to Deaton. We'll meet you there." He said. 

John simply picked Stiles up and raced to his car. Despite the urgency of the situation, John couldn't help but wonder about one thing. 

Why were they taking Stiles to the vet? 

****

"Stiles, open your eyes. It's okay to let me see." Deaton coaxed. 

Stiles shook his head, biting down on his lip. He would never open his eyes again. He would rather live shrouded in darkness than worry his pack again. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why can't you ever keep your mouth closed, huh, Stiles? You've ruined tonight for Scott and Kira - they should be out celebrating their victory, not sitting in the waiting room because you had a meltdown like a little bitch,_ Stiles thought angrily. Deaton gently stroked Stiles' face, hoping the motion would calm Stiles enough to where he would open his eyes. Unfortunately, they stayed tightly closed. 

"Are you afraid to open your eyes? Do you think something bad will happen?" Deaton asked. 

Stiles gave a small nod. Deaton smiled. Now he was getting somewhere. Grabbing a small trinket from his desk, Deaton put it in Stiles' hand. Pale fingers curled around the object in confusion. 

"This is a talisman of protection, Stiles. It is Egyptian - the Eye of Horus is marked on it. I promise that if anything happens - anything at all - this talisman will protect myself and everyone else in this building. It is safe to open your eyes now. Can you do that?" Deaton asked softly. 

Stiles hesitantly opened his eyes, checking to see if the talisman had worked. Deaton grinned, pulling a small flashlight out of his pocket and shining it in each of Stiles' eyes. The light only served to make the purple hue of Stiles' irises more brilliant. Deaton had only ever heard about what could cause the eyes to change to such a color. Walking over to the bookshelf, Deaton picked out a thick, leather-bound book. He flipped to a bookmarked page and nodded. 

"Stiles, we should speak about this with your pack. Come along." Deaton said. 

Stiles nodded, following Deaton to the waiting room. Everyone shot out of their seats when they saw the duo approach, eager for answers. Derek, however, wanted proof of his hypothesis. He had been beating himself up for the last hour over not telling the pack about what he thought Stiles was going through. He felt like an asshole. 

"Everyone, take a seat. We have some things to discuss." Deaton said. 

Everyone did as told, except for Stiles, who was staring at his reflection in the window. 

"My eyes are purple." Stiles said in disbelief. 

"Stiles, please, I'll explain -" Deaton said. 

"My _eyes_ are _purple_! I'm not a were-anything and my eyes are freaking purple!" 

"Son, sit down. We'll figure this out, don't worry." John said. 

Stiles began to cry. "What if we don't? I'm not a werewolf! This doesn't make sense - nothing makes sense! I wanna go home, Dada!" 

John wrapped his arms around Stiles as his angry tears turned into embarrassed tears. Stiles couldn't believe he had just called John 'Dada' in front of his pack and Deaton. He was just so upset; he couldn't think straight. 

"Get on with it, Doc, please." John said. 

"As soon as you told me that his eyes had turned purple, I had an idea of what was going on. It's rare. Most packs don't even know of it." Deaton said. 

"A pack pup." Derek said softly. 

Deaton nodded. "Correct." 

Scott turned to Derek, eyes full of confusion. Suddenly, it clicked. Derek knew. Derek had known about this, and he hadn't said anything. Scott growled, eyes glowing red as he lunged at Derek, knocking the older man out of his chair. Derek's snarled, snapping at Scott with his fangs. 

"We could have fixed this! We could have fixed Stiles if you would have said something!" Scott thundered. 

"He's not _broken,_ Scott! There is _nothing_ to fix!" Derek snapped. 

The two werewolves continued their scuffle until a shrill whistle filled the air, making them wince. Scott and Derek turned to Deaton, who had a dog whistle between his lips, his glare warning them that he would blow it again if he had to. The two returned to their respective corners, still snarling and hissing at each other. 

"So, what does that mean? What's a pack pup?" John asked, carding his fingers through Stiles' hair. 

"Packs release pheromones that affect each other. Sometimes, when they are targeted at one pack member, that member can become a pack pup, or, in simpler terms, the pack baby. It usually stems from that pack member being in need of care and comfort from past trauma." Deaton explained. 

"The Nogitsune." Lydia said. 

"Possibly. It may be something more deep seeded." 

"But what exactly does it mean? Like, how is going to affect him? Minus the glowing purple eyes." Liam said. 

"Stiles regresses. How much honestly depends on the pack. Certain things will change drastically - bodily functions, dependency patterns, wants and needs - while other thing won't change at all, such as intelligence. Luckily, pups are usually very good at assessing situations, so Stiles will most likely know when certain behaviors are okay and when they are not, minus things like bodily functions. Even when he doesn't, he'll take cues from the pack, especially the Alpha." 

Stiles frowned. "Don't I get a choice in this? I don't want to be a pup. It's not my fault the pack went all baby crazy and they decided to take it out on me. It's not fair." He said. 

"Actually, yes. Somewhere, deep in your subconscious mind, you are okay with this. Your body wouldn't have accepted the change if you weren't. The conflict you're probably experiencing is completely normal. You're used to societal standards for how you should look, feel, and act. It will be difficult for you to overcome, but with the help of your pack, I have no doubt that you will settle into your role quickly." 

Stiles nodded, biting his lip. Everything he had been experiencing for the past few months was okay. The accidents, the overwhelming feelings, the fear, the need for physical affection, the thumb sucking - it was all okay. No one was upset with him, no one was telling him to grow up, to take control of his mind and body. His pack just loved him and wanted to take care of him. 

Except for Scott. Scott hated him - that much was obvious by the way he was glaring at the ground. 

"So, what can we do to help Stiles adjust faster?" Malia asked. 

"Reassure him. He will be very hesitant to do things he wants, like playing - whether it be with toys or wrestling with one of you - drinking from bottles or sippy cups, things along those lines. Let him know it's all okay. Never, _ever_ discourage him from regressing - it can make him physically and psychologically sick. And I suggest you all read up on childcare. Stiles will often be young emotionally and mentally and it is important to know how to properly care for him." Deaton instructed. 

"No." Scott said, standing up. 

Everyone turned to the alpha wolf, stunned. He hadn't said a word since the fight with Derek. 

"This isn't right. I can't - I can't do _this._ We have enough to worry about without Stiles acting like he's two while we're trying to deal with supernatural stuff." Scott said angrily. 

"Scott -" Derek warned, stepping to the teen. 

"No, Derek! I'm done with this. _I'm_ going to take my wonderful girlfriend out to dinner to celebrate our team's win. Come on, Kira." 

Kira stood, walking over to Scott and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Scott, I think this is more important. Stiles needs you, his best friend and Alpha. We'll celebrate later, when Liam and Stiles and Danny can come along. We never would have won without them." She said softly. 

"Screw this. I need to get out of here." 

"Please, Scott, just calm down." 

"I just need some air, okay? Leave me alone!" 

With that, Scott dashed out of the door and into the night. 

****

John woke with a start as he felt someone slide into bed beside him, reaching for his gun instinctively. He slowly turned over to get a look at the intruder, his standard issue heavy in his hands. He hadn't even heard anyone come in. What if they had done something to Stiles? John let out a sigh of relief when he saw Stiles' face, putting his gun away quickly to avoid scaring his son. Stiles was shivering under the comforter, breath hitching as if he were crying. John wouldn't be surprised if he was - he had been through a rather tough night, and Scott had been less than supportive. John became angry just thinking about Scott right now. He couldn't believe that after everything he and Stiles had been through, he would just abandon Stiles when he needed Scott most. 

"Hey, kiddo. Why are you up so late, huh?" John whispered. 

"I messed everything up, Dada." Stiles sniffled. 

John sighed. "Come here, Stiles. Cuddle with Dada." 

Stiles shook his head. "I ruined it. Scott doesn't like me anymore. I made him run away. I'm a big burden to the pack and they're going to hate me and you're going to hate me and I'll be all alone." 

John sat up and pulled Stiles close to him. "I will never hate you, Stiles. You're my pride and joy. I will love you no matter what. And the pack? They love you, too. They asked all those questions to figure out how to take care of you because they love you. You're not a burden, either. And Scott will come around. He's just being silly." 

Stiles whimpered. "Do you mean it?" 

John nodded. "With all my heart. What's in your hand?" 

Stiles opened his hand to reveal the pacifier John had gotten for him. John took it from Stiles and smiled. 

"Pacis go in your mouth, Stiles. Here." John cooed, popping the pacifier into Stiles' mouth, making a little popping noise. 

Stiles giggled. 

"Alright, it's time to go to sleep. Lay down." John said. 

Stiles did as told, burying his face in John's shirt when his father laid down. John rubbed Stiles' back, kissing the brunette's hair. Stiles' grabbed a fistful of John's shirt as if to keep the older man close as he suckled his pacifier. As John was about to fall asleep, he heard Stiles speak. 

"Love you, Dada." Stiles mumbled sleepily, the words slurred by the soother in his mouth. 

John smiled softly, kissing Stiles' forehead. "Dada loves you too, Stiles." 

John closed his eyes, drifting off to the sounds of Stiles' rhythmic sucking. How could anyone think this was a bad thing?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you guys again for all of the support! This chapter isn't my best - so I apologize - but I had severe writer's block. Also, I'm thinking about changing the main pairings, but I'd like your opinions. If you guys have something you'd like to see, just leave a comment. :)

Scott woke up Saturday morning with his stomach in knots and guilt gnawing away at him. Reaching for his phone, Scott checked the notifications. The pack had been blowing up his phone; Liam was texting him in all caps, Derek had called him fifteen times, Lydia had called five times, leaving voicemails with each one, and Malia had sent him at least twenty texts on how she was going to kill him. However, none of that phased Scott. It was the missed calls and the texts from Stiles that made his heart ache.

_Missed Call: Stiles 12:00 AM_

 _Missed Call: Stiles 12:20 AM_

 _

Missed Call: Stiles 2:30 AM 

6 New Messages: Stiles 

I'm sorry Scott 

I'll fix it 

I won't be a pup please call me 

Please talk to me Scott I have to talk to you please 

I can fix myself Scott let me try 

Sorry I ruined everything 

_

Scott wanted to scream. Stiles made it so hard to be angry at him. Scott _wanted_ to be angry. He wanted to get away from all of this pack pup stuff that he couldn't even begin to comprehend. He wanted the strong Stiles back, the Stiles who told him that he was a huge dumbass and came up with crazy schemes. That Stiles took care of him and had more bravery in his pinkie than any supernatural creature had in their entire body. 

Rolling out of bed, Scott trudged to the bathroom to take a shower. He need scalding hot water to derail his current train of thought. Turning on the water, Scott stepped under the spray, allowing himself to become drenched, as if the water actually had the power to cleanse him of his feelings. It had worked in the past when Stiles would shove Scott under the spray to coax him out of his anger. The memory filled Scott with rage. Everything came back to Stiles. Stiles helped Scott during his first transformations, Stiles learned all of the history and magic to help him learn how to control the wolf, Stiles helped with homework, Stiles never got angry when Scott blew him off for a girl; he held Scott up, no matter what. The anger Scott felt was slowly being replaced by shame. The one time Stiles needed him, and he yelled at him and called him broken. 

Scott punched the wall with a growl. He had just been so afraid - he didn't know what a pack pup was, and he sure as hell didn't remember wanting Stiles to be one. Stiles was independent and mature. He was the first one potty trained out of the two of them, the first to read and write. He always led Scott with a kind and gentle hand. 

Scott couldn't give that to Stiles. He couldn't give him care and comfort and guidance. Some Alpha he was. Scott finally turned off the water and got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He was still conflicted; he needed an expert opinion on this. Heading to the kitchen, Scott spotted Melissa drinking her coffee. 

"Hey, Mom? Could I talk to you about something?" Scott asked. 

Melissa looked up at her towel clad son and pointed to a chair across from her, settling in for an interesting conversation. 

****

Saturday mornings were for sleeping in. It had always been that way, and it would forever be that way. At least, that's what Malia believed, and after last night, it was a well deserved reward. 

Lydia, however, wholeheartedly disagreed. There were things to be done this Saturday, and she was bringing the whole pack along, whether it be peacefully or aggressively. She had already gotten Derek, Liam, Jordan, Kira, and Peter on board; all she needed to do was pick up Malia. Ringing the doorbell, Lydia examined her nails as she waited for someone to answer the door. Surprisingly, Malia's father arrived quickly, greeting Lydia with a handshake before calling for Malia to come down. 

"I'm sorry. She can be attached to her bed on the weekends." Mr. Tate said. 

"Oh, it's fine. We have time." Lydia said. 

"What are you girls going to do today?" 

"Just some shopping, Mr. Tate." 

"I'm glad Malia has so many friends. I was afraid she'd have a hard time fitting in." 

Lydia looked up from her nails, her usually confident smile dulled to a soft one. Sometimes, she forgot that Malia lived in the wild for most of her life. Malia acted normally for the most part, and she wasn't hard to look at. Plus, she was a hit with the guys - cute, sassy, and tough. She could kiss a guy one second and knock him out with a punch the face in the next. Lydia mentally chastised herself for her flippant behavior. She should have been more aware of Malia's - and Mr. Tate's - struggles. 

"Malia's nice, Mr. Tate. Most people like her." Lydia confirmed. 

Mr. Tate smiled. "That's great. Relieving, really. Thank you." He said. 

Lydia was about to speak when Malia appeared, looking like she was ready to kill. Lydia smiled and waved. 

"It's eight in the morning, Lydia. Why are you here at this ungodly hour?" Malia growled. 

"Aw, I love you, too. Come on, we have some shopping to do." Lydia said. 

"Lydia, I already told you that I like my clothes -" 

"Not for you. Just come on." 

Mr. Tate looked confused, but said nothing. With a sigh, Malia headed to the door, tossing her dad a quick goodbye before leaving with Lydia. 

Five minutes into the drive, Malia couldn't take it any longer. She had to know what was going on. Lydia would never relent on the subject of fashion, so whatever today's shopping trip was for was more important that Malia's "disastrous" wardrobe. 

"So, what is this really about?" Malia asked. 

"We're going shopping for Stiles with the rest of the pack. I'm pretty sure the Sheriff doesn't have any bottles or onesies on hand anymore." Lydia said. 

"Okay. So, uh, we're getting him baby stuff?" 

"Yep. I have a couple of places in mind, but this place is first." 

Lydia pulled into the parking lot of Babies 'R' Us, parking next to Derek's sleek, black Camero. Malia was impressed; leave it to Lydia to get Derek to shop for bottles and baby shampoo. Getting out of the car, Lydia and Malia walked to the entrance, finding Derek, Peter, Liam, Jordan, and Kira standing there. 

"Alright, soldiers. Let's start our mission." Lydia said, marching confidently into the store. 

****

"You did _what?_ " Melissa asked in disbelief. 

Scott blushed. He knew his mom was going to be pissed, but this was like the calm before the storm. She was working up to the apex of her anger. 

"I was scared, Mom. It just - everything was changing really fast and I couldn't - I called Stiles broken." Scott said in a rush. 

"Scott Raphael McCall, I know I raised you better than that. I didn't raise an asshole." Melissa said. 

Well, Scott had certainly underestimated Melissa's anger. 

"But Mom, it's not normal. Stiles is the grounded one. Stiles is the grown up one. This isn't right." Scott said. 

Melissa sighed, rubbing her temples. She loved her son, but sometimes he was so dense. Scott has always hated change - the time after her and Raphael's divorce had been a nightmare - but his behavior was unacceptable. She knew how Stiles and Scott's relationship worked and how uneven it could be on the taking and giving end. Melissa knew Scott had a good heart - it was just hiding under fear and anger currently. 

"I just - it's different. I'm not - I'm not a leader, Mom. Stiles needs that now. He needs a dad, and I can't be that. I don't know anything about kids. And Stiles is seventeen and a baby and -" Scott said, voice cracking. 

"I had the same feelings before I had you, Scott. I was young and still getting my degree. I thought I would screw up your life or that you would screw up mine. I thought about abortion - the change was that big for me. But I had you, and the minute I held you in my arms, I knew I could never let you go." Melissa said. 

Scott cocked his head. "What're you saying?" 

"That you have to try, Scott. Stiles is always there for you. It's about time you were there for him. It'll be hard, but the love you'll feel will be worth it. I know you love Stiles, Scott, and that needs to be your motivation." 

Scott nodded. "I'll try, Mom. I can't - I can't live with myself knowing that I hurt him so badly." 

Melissa smiled. "Such a good boy. I know you'll do what's right." 

Scott hugged Melissa tightly. He couldn't have asked for a better mom. 

****

Stiles woke up with an unbearable itch that seemed to cover his entire body. He scratched at his chest and legs and arms until they were raw, but it did nothing to help. Pulling at his shirt, Stiles began stripping down to just his diaper, trying not to wake his dad in the process. To be honest, it proved rather difficult, but as soon as the clothes were off, Stiles felt a lot better physically. Emotionally was a different story that he was trying not to think too much about. 

Stiles scowled and poked at his diaper. He hated the stupid things; they reminded him of Scott and how angry he was about the whole 'pack pup' business. That, and they were embarrassing. They made him look like a big baby. _You are a big baby, genius. Did you not listen to Deaton? Diapers are perfect for you,_ Stiles thought, cheeks heating up. Lydia would have a fit over the damn things if she saw them. They were plain and white for God's sake! Totally not fashionable - one would think the company that made the diapers could put some designs on them, like spaceships or ocean animals. That would be cool. 

Stiles shook his head, ridding himself of the thought. He needed to prove that he was an adult so Scott would like him again. The only way to do that was to ditch his current undergarment for boxers, get dressed, and do what adults did. Filled with a fiery determination, Stiles carefully got out of bed and went to his room to get ready for the day. 

Stiles padded down to the kitchen after he finished dressing, absently scratching his body. The first thing on his agenda was to make breakfast for John and himself, and pancakes were on the menu - they were John's favorite and they were hard to make. It took a _big kid_ to make pancakes. Pulling out the ingredients, Stiles began measuring and pouring, bouncing on his toes excitedly. Scott was going to be so proud of him. 

When all the pancakes were piled neatly on a plate, steaming and ready to be eaten, Stiles began his search for the syrup. Usually, he would make his dad use agave nectar - which was low in sugar and carbohydrates - but today was like a "thank you" to John for putting up with him and his accidents and crying, and damn it, that was more than reason enough for maple syrup. Stiles opened up the pantry, scanning for the sweet condiment. As if sent by Jesus himself, Stiles spotted the bottle on the top shelf, bathed in florescent light, just out of his reach. He pulled a chair over to the pantry before climbing on top of it. He still couldn't quite reach; he needed to be on the tips of his toes. With the extra boost, Stiles was able to reach the bottle, a giddy grin on his face. 

"Way to go, Stilinski." Stiles said beneath his breath. 

Suddenly, Stiles felt himself begin to wobble, as if someone were shaking the chair. Stiles tried to steady himself, but before he knew it, he was crashing to the ground in a heap. The back of his head ricocheted off of the floor, sending pain throughout his head. Still, it didn't hurt to badly, but that didn't stop the tears welling in his eyes or the sobs escaping his lips. 

"Stiles? Stiles! Are you okay?" John asked, rushing to Stiles' side. 

Stiles' only response was a sob. John took the boy into his arms, rocking him gently. He had no idea if Stiles was hurt or not. What had the boy been thinking, anyway? He probably fell off the chair trying to reach the Lucky Charms again. As Stiles' sobs began to taper off, John began giving his son the once over. No serious injury - the tears were most likely from fear - but there was an ugly rash creeping down Stiles' arm. That was curious. 

"Alright, kiddo. You want to tell Dada what happened here?" John asked. 

_Do I want to tell you that I'm incapable of doing stuff every normal teenager does? No, Dada, I don't,_ Stiles thought bitterly, shaking his head. John sighed. Of course this was going to be a battle. He felt like everything was going to be until Stiles was okay with being a pup. 

"Well, Stiles, it looks like you're a little wet. Let's get you into a fresh diaper - one that you will not take off - and then we'll get some food, okay?" John asked. 

Stiles blushed, anger and embarrassment taking hold of him. John was teasing him. He was acknowledging Stiles' accident out loud and talking about changing him. At least John wasn't using baby talk...yet. 

"No. I don't need diapers. I'm seventeen." Stiles said stubbornly. 

"Come on, kiddo. You can't stay in wet pants all day." John said, slightly amused. 

"Not wet. You're just old and seeing things." 

John bit back a laugh. "I know you're embarrassed, Stiles. This is why we don't take our diapers off. You promised me, kid." 

"But I'm almost an adult. And-And Scott -" 

"Scott is being a little mean right now, but I told you he'd come around. This is your safe space, Stiles. You're a pup and you should have a place to feel completely comfortable acting like a pup. I don't want you getting sick because you're repressing all of this stuff." 

Stiles nodded, looking at the ground. Now John probably thought he was a naughty brat. He wasn't trying to be - he just wanted to make everyone happy. Scratching at his arms, Stiles stood up to follow John into the bathroom. Maybe a diaper change didn't sound so awful. 

****

"Aw, look at this! Wouldn't Stiles look adorable in this?" Lydia squealed. 

"He definitely would." Kira agreed. 

All of the males in the group shared confused glances. They had been shopping for almost five hours now. First it had been necessities, then toys, and now clothes. The girls were definitely enjoying it, at least. Derek and Jordan, though, had already agreed that there was no difference between the shirt currently in Lydia's hands and the one she had bought earlier - they were both yellow and soft to the touch. 

Derek sat on a bench outside the store with Peter and Liam, who seemed fairly traumatized. Jordan, the brave man he was, was still trucking, following Malia, Lydia, and Kira around dutifully. As the trio sat, Derek looked around at the other stores' window displays. They had already been to a lot of them, but there was one that caught his eye. In the middle of the display stood a mannequin modeling a gray jacket with wolf ears on the hood and a fluffy wolf tail on the back. It took all of five seconds for Derek to decide that Stiles needed to have that jacket. 

"Come on. We're going over there." Derek said, pulling Peter off of the bench forcefully. 

"No need to be rough, Derek. I'm not really into such things." Peter quipped, making Derek scowl. 

Liam ran after them, not wanting to be alone when Lydia came back. He didn't know if he ever wanted to see the inside of another store ever again. Plus, Lydia was actually terrifying. He was pretty sure that if he tried to buy Stiles a Captain America shirt, all hell would break loose. But even Lydia couldn't hate the jacket Derek had picked out. It was cute and playful and Liam could just see Stiles rolling around in it through the leaves during the fall. It was perfect. It even came with gloves that had paw prints on them. 

"It's a cool jacket." Liam said carefully. He knew Derek wasn't fond of him. 

"Stiles will love it. Maybe - Maybe it will help him through this." Derek said. 

****

"No, Dada! No tickling!" Stiles screeched, laughing as John dug his fingers into his ribs. 

John laughed. It had been a long time since he had played with Stiles, let alone tickled him. He had forgotten how ticklish his son was until now. John shook his head. 

"I've got you! You can't escape the tickle monster!" John exclaimed, blowing a raspberry on Stiles' bare stomach. 

"Not my tummy! Tummies are off limits!" Stiles whined. 

"Someone's feeling fussy, huh?" 

Stiles stopped laughing, pushing at John's chest. John frowned as he let Stiles up, watching his son scamper away and hide behind the recliner. The mood of the room went from light and fun to tense in seconds without warning, leaving both John and Stiles confused. John walked over to the recliner and squatted down. 

"Hey, kiddo. What's wrong?" John asked softly. 

Stiles looked at John with teary eyes. "I'm not fussy." He whispered. 

"Of course not. You were being very good." 

"Stop talking like that! I'm not a baby! I'm not, I'm not, I'm not!" 

"Calm down, Stiles. I don't know what's going on. Tell me why you're upset. Talk to Dada." 

"You said I was fussy," Stiles accused, wiping his nose, "We were having fun and you called me fussy and only _babies_ get fussy and just because Deaton and Derek and everyone else says I'm a baby doesn't mean that I am! It's not fair that I have to be all mixed up!" 

"Okay, baby boy. Dada's sorry that he called you fussy. I was teasing, but maybe it's a little soon for that. I know it's hard right now, Stiles - I know you need Scott to be okay with all of this. But you've got me and the rest of the pack behind you. This is about you, Stiles. You're not used to that, but you're allowed to have this. Someone's gotta take care of you some of the time, too." 

"Who's going to take care of you and the pack, then? That's my job." 

John smiled. "We'll take care of each other, okay? We're a family and that's what families do. The only difference now is that we've got the cutest baby on the planet." 

"I don't think I've ever heard anything that mushy come out of your mouth." 

"Get used to it, kiddo. When you were born, I talked that way all the time. Your mom loved it." 

Stiles hugged John, burying his face in the older man's chest. He wished everything was easier; he hated putting his dad through this mess. Stiles yawned, his eyes drooping. This was an opportune time for a good nap. As Stiles snuggled in for said nap, however, the doorbell rang. John told Stiles to get some clothes on while he answered the door. The whole pack was on the other side, arms loaded down with shopping bags. 

****

Stiles sat awkwardly as Lydia fussed over him, pushing outfits into his hands to try on and cooing over how cute he looked. He rubbed his eyes. As much as Stiles - and John - appreciated what the pack was doing, the were tired. Stiles was starting to feel trapped, and he didn't like it one bit. Lydia must have noticed, because she kissed his forehead and gave a sympathetic smile. 

"I know, baby. Just a few more, okay? Then we can stop." She cooed. 

Derek had stuffed himself into a corner with his bag that contained the jacket he found, waiting. He wanted to give it to Stiles after everything else. It was special. 

After what seemed like forever, Stiles was allowed to change back into his own - extremely itchy - clothes. He sat between Jordan and John on the couch, cuddling into Jordan's side. He wasn't as good of a pillow as John, but he looked like he needed love. 

"The detergent should help with the rash. Stiles' skin is more sensitive now, so the baby detergent will soften up the clothes and make them more comfortable." Liam said. 

"Good. I was worried I'd have to take him to the doctor again." John said. 

Derek finally came out of the shadows and handed Stiles the bag, staring off as the brunette opened it curiously, pulling out the jacket with a squeal. Immediately, Stiles put it on. 

"Look, Dada! I'm a wolf, too!" Stiles said excitedly. 

John smiled. "I see that. What do you say?" He prompted. 

"Thank you, Derek! Thank you!" 

Stiles went around the room, telling everyone thank you and supplying hugs. Derek felt his cheeks heat up. He liked his pup. 

He liked his pup a lot.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles yawned as he stretched out on his bed, contorting his body to get rid of the lull of sleep. He didn't really want to get out of bed and go to school; it was going to be a beautiful day, and beautiful days were meant for going outside and playing. Not that he liked to play - he wasn't a baby or anything.

Deciding to lie in bed awhile longer, Stiles curled up beneath his comforter and closed his eyes. The blankets had been freshly washed in the new detergent Lydia had bought and they were soft and cool and they didn't make Stiles want to rip his skin off because it itched. At this moment, Stiles was on top of the world. Nothing could change that. 

"Hey, Stiles. It's time to get up! Who's ready to get out of bed?" John asked brightly. 

Stiles whined as his dad turned on the lights, pulling the blankets over his head. John chuckled, pulling the covers back. He was glad Stiles was feeling better this morning. Turning to the closet, John began searching for an outfit for Stiles to wear. It would definitely make Lydia happy if the brunette wore one of his new outfits. 

Settling on a pale yellow t-shirt and navy cargo shorts, John set the clothes on Stiles' desk chair before trying to get his son out of bed. 

"Time to get up, Stiles. If we can get dressed and ready in ten minutes, there will be time for breakfast." John coaxed. 

"Lucky Charms?" Stiles asked. 

"Only if you let Dada get you dressed." 

Stiles sat up, opening his mouth as if he were about to argue. This still wasn't normal; Stiles wasn't used to John referring to himself as 'Dada' and actually coddling him. Dependency had been a disgusting word to Stiles since his mother died, and John respected that. Now that things had turned around, Stiles was remembering how good it felt to have John reassure and care for him. Even with that constant reassurance, nothing felt okay - not the regression, not the unconditional love, not anything. Love was never unconditional, and eventually, someone would get fed up with Stiles and abandon him and he would be stuck as a pup who couldn't care for himself. The thought shook Stiles to the core. Reality was a harsh mistress. 

"Stiles, hey, it's okay. I know school seems really scary right now, but you're tough. You're going to be fine. And Lydia and the others will be there. Liam said he'd help with changing and Lydia and Malia won't let anyone make fun of you." John said as he pulled Stiles' pajama top over his head. 

Stiles didn't respond, choosing to busy his mouth with his pacifier. He didn't want to talk about school right now. This was John and Stiles' time to be together - having it spoiled by school was something that would push Stiles over the edge. John carefully plucked the pacifier from Stiles' mouth, chuckling at the way his mouth simply kept up the suckling motion. Maybe a bottle would be good with breakfast this morning. 

Pulling a shirt over his son's head, John guided Stiles' arms into the holes before having the brunette lie down for a change. Stiles whimpered and swatted at John's hands as he tried to undo the tapes of the diaper. There was no way he was allowing that. It was embarrassing enough to have John dress him - to have him change his diaper would be humiliating. 

"Shh, kiddo. Dada's just going to change you real quick. It'll be so short, you won't even know that it happened." John promised, allowing Stiles to have his soother once again. 

"I can do it, though, Dad. Besides, it's a little," Stiles blushed, "Messy. So, I'll just be on my way to the bathroom -" 

"Good thing I have plenty of wipes, then. Sorry, kid, you're stuck with me changing you. Faster I do it, the faster it's over. So, lay down and let Dada take care of it, alright? Be my good boy." 

That made Stiles more docile. He wanted to be a good boy; good boys received cuddles and hugs and they were read stories. If he was a good boy, Scott would love him again. That was important - if Scott loved him, everything would be okay. Having Scott to help with changes and give him reassurance and support would be perfect. Before long, John was slipping Stiles' shorts on, and Stiles realized that John hadn't been bullshitting him when he said he wouldn't even know the change had happened. 

"Can I have the Spiderman socks? Please, Dada?" Stiles pleaded, lower lip stuck out in a cute pout. 

"I thought I was immune to the puppy face. I guess I should get lessons from Derek." John teased, kissing Stiles' nose. 

Stiles started to giggle. His puppy face was actually a puppy face now that he was the pack pup. For some reason, it struck him as funny. John put socks and shoes on Stiles' feet, carefully tying the laces into neat, double knotted bows. The last thing he needed was a call saying Stiles had tripped over his laces and fell down a flight of stairs. It had happened once, and once was more than enough. 

"Alright, Stiles. Let's get you some Lucky Charms before Derek gets here to take you to school." John said. 

"Papa is taking me to school?" Stiles asked, confused. 

"Yep." 

Brown eyes widened as they looked at John. "I meant Derek! Derek is picking me up!" 

John simply nodded and shooed Stiles down to the kitchen. Papa - that was a name John never thought he would hear Derek be called. 

****

Scott sat in the far corner of the classroom, watching Stiles scribble notes on a sheet of notebook paper. The brunette looked the same as ever - eyebrows furrowed with concentration, eyes bright with knowledge and curiosity - but it didn't help Scott forget about the fact that Stiles _was_ different now. Scott could see the way Stiles' hand shook while writing, clumsily forming letters that made the notes look like they were written by a four year old. He could hear the soft crinkle of whatever 'protective underwear' Stiles was sporting, and it made him want to vomit. Even the clothes Stiles was wearing were different; they looked softer and more colorful and Stiles seemed so comfortable in them. But that didn't register in Scott's mind, really - all he could think was _different, different, different_. 

Good God, Scott was a dick. Not even a dick - he was becoming a _Jackson._ He was making fun of Stiles, putting down his best friend to feel better about the situation. It was no wonder why the pack had begun to hate him. He had to do something. He missed Stiles and he had promised Melissa that he would try. Maybe Stiles being a pup wasn't the end of the world. He quickly jotted a note down on his paper and folded it into a paper plane before flying it to Stiles. Scott groaned internally; apparently, Stiles wasn't the only one regressing. _Seriously? A paper airplane? Are you in the third grade?_ Scott thought, watching Stiles unfold the note. 

**Hey. Can we talk? Privately? - SM**

A huge smile had spread across Stiles' face, making Scott grin. Maybe Stiles wasn't mad at him; that would make things easier, definitely. A few moments later, the plane was back on Scott's desk. 

**Sure. Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes. - SS**

Stiles got permission from the teacher to go to the bathroom, silently grabbing a small bag from his backpack and heading for the door. If he was going to talk to Scott, he wanted to be in a dry diaper. He shuddered; he hated wearing diapers at school. He hated wearing them period. And regardless of what anyone said, diapers were extremely noticeable. They crinkled and it was easy to see the way they filled out any pair of pants. Stiles quickly locked himself in a stall and started to change, which proved to be a difficult process. 

Scott tried to pay attention to the teacher as he waited for the perfect opportunity to ask to be excused, but it proved to be impossible. All he could think about was Stiles and what he was going to say - how he was going to apologize and beg for forgiveness - to his best friend. The teacher droned on as the class began to play on their phones and have whispered conversations. Scott always loved to eavesdrop on said conversations; he wasn't one for gossip usually, but when he was bored, a juicy story always livened him up. 

"Does Stilinski even know how to use the bathroom? He shit his pants last week." A boy spat. 

Well, Scott didn't need heightened hearing to catch that. 

"Oh my God, and have you seen the way he's dressed today? He looks like his Daddy still lays his clothes out for him." A girl scoffed. 

"Well, we know his Mommy doesn't." The boy laughed. 

Scott's blood was boiling as he listened to the duo talk about Stiles. Stiles had never done anything bad to them and they were joking about his mother's death! What breed of asshole does that? 

"Maybe Stilinski's getting his diaper changed by that fag, Dunbar. You know that kid wants to fuck Stilinski. And with how much of a little bitch Stilinski is, Dunbar's gonna have an easy time popping that lock." Another boy chimed in. 

"Hey, why don't you all shut the hell up?" Scott snarled. 

The boy turned to face Scott. "What? It's not like we're lying. Stilinski is a freak!" He exclaimed. 

Scott took a deep breath to keep himself under control. He couldn't lash out. "No, he's not." 

"Uh, yeah, he is. He's a fucking baby." The girl sneered. 

Walking into the bathroom, Scott knocked on the door to the handicap stall, knowing that Stiles was most likely in there. He waited for a response, but received nothing but the sounds of struggling. Scott sighed. 

"I can smell you, Stiles. I know you're in there. I'm coming in." Scott said. 

"No! I'll be out in a second, just -" Stiles choked out. 

The plea fell on deaf ears. Scott slid under the door, coming face to face with a half naked Stiles, who looked miserable. Tears poured down his red face, his lip trembled, and sobs racked his body, making Scott's heart break. In the back of his mind, an evil little voice chanted _run away, this isn't your problem, make new friends, different, different, different,_ but Scott ignored it. Stiles had always been there for him. His mom was right - it was time for him to be the strong friend and the Alpha. 

It was time for Scott to be a good daddy. It was odd to think of himself that way, but he could only imagine how Stiles felt as a pup. 

"Stiles, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Talk to me." Scott said softly. 

Stiles shook his head, whimpering pitifully. He didn't want Scott to see him like this. He was supposed to be a big boy, an adult, and now Scott was seeing him as a baby who couldn't even change himself. Scott gripped Stiles' chin, forcing the brunette to look at him. He wasn't ready for the raw misery and pain in Stiles' now purple eyes. Now that Scott could really see them up close, Stiles' pup irises were beautiful. They fit Stiles perfectly - softly colored, with dark, powerful borders. 

"It's okay, Stiles. Let me help. I know I've been as asshole, but I promise that I'll be better." Scott pleaded. 

"You'll be mad. I'm just a dumb baby and I can't even change my diaper by myself and I wear _diapers_ and I'm seventeen for fuck's sake and that's a bad word and Dada said not to say it but everything is confusing and I missed you and I don't want you to hate me." Stiles cried. 

"I don't hate you, okay? I was being mean and I promise that I will never abandon you again. I can't promise to be perfect, but I can promise to try. And I will try, Stiles. I want to try to be a good daddy and Alpha to you. It'll be awkward and weird at first, but I want you to know that this is okay. I am okay with this." 

Stiles sniffled a few more times, allowing Scott's words to sink in. Scott still loved him and he was okay with Stiles being a pup. Everything was going to be okay. Stiles flung himself into Scott's arms, hugging the boy tightly. This was all he had needed: Scott's approval. 

"Alright, little guy, let's get you dressed, huh?" Scott cooed. 

Stiles nodded, tucking his thumb into his mouth. Everything was going to be okay. 

****

Lydia stood in the art room, staring at the screen of her phone. A number was typed on the screen, the call button glowing green. Her finger hovered over the button, debating over whether or not to press it. She had been calling the number for months now, loving the voice of the person on the other end of the line. She and the person had become friends, good friends, even. Sighing, she pressed the button and put the phone to her ear, listening to the device ring. 

"Hey, Lyds. What's up?" A masculine voice asked. 

"Hey! Everything's great. How have you been, Jackson?" Lydia asked. 

"Good. I'm really excited to come back to Beacon Hills. How's Stiles? Still having a hard time with the pack pup stuff?" 

"Poor thing. He's miserable most of the time. It doesn't help that Scott has been less than supportive." 

Jackson snorted. "Scott's just scared. Some Alpha, running away when his pack needs him most. Stiles is probably missing him, though." 

"Definitely. I just hope Scott comes to his senses soon - the pack won't admit it, but we're kind of lost without him. Especially Liam, being so young and new to this kind of stuff. And Stiles, of course. He needs Scott's approval to even begin to accept being the pack pup." 

"That sucks, Lydia. I'm really sorry. Hey, I have to go, but call me later, alright?" 

Lydia smiled softly. "Of course, Jax. Bye." 

"Bye." 

Lydia hung up the phone and sighed. Jackson had become so different - he could still be a dick, but he was softer around the edges now. Lydia missed him, and she knew he missed Beacon Hills, but Jackson had really taken an interest in Stiles. Maybe he had found a way to sympathize with the boy. Whatever it was, Lydia was glad. 

And she couldn't wait for Jackson to come home.


	10. Chapter 10

Derek made sure that he was parked in front if the high school at three-thirty in the afternoon to pick Stiles up. It had most likely been a long day for his pup, filled with hurtful words and malicious laughter, and Derek wanted to offer comfort. What was more comforting than being on time and armed with someone's soothing items? Nothing, that's what.

Watching the sea of teenagers spill from the school's day was agonizing. How was Derek supposed to find Stiles? There were so many people and voices and scents that it was overwhelming. Once the wave of students lessened to a trickle, Derek's job became easier. At the top of the steps stood Stiles, his cheeks rosy pink as if he had been running. Derek could hearing the shallow, short breaths escaping Stiles' lips. The boy had been running from something. Or someone. 

Derek got out of the car and jogged over to the steps, resting a gentle hand on Stiles' back. Stiles looked up, his mouth twisted into a smile. 

"Hi, Derek." Stiles huffed. 

"Hey, pup. Are you ready to go?" Derek asked. 

Stiles shook his head. "I have to wait for Scotty - uh, I have to wait for Scott and Liam. They had to talk to Coach Finstock about something." 

Derek raised an eyebrow. Scott was speaking to Stiles again? Hopefully he wasn't unraveling all of the progress John and the pack had made over the weekend. It hadn't been much, but something was better than nothing. However, it didn't go unnoticed that Stiles had called Scott 'Scotty' and quickly backtracked. That made Derek upset. Why wouldn't Stiles just let himself call Scott 'Scotty' or Derek 'Papa'? It wasn't as if he would get in trouble; in fact, it would make Derek - and the pack's and John's - day. 

"How was school, Stiles?" Derek asked. 

"Danny brought me lunch. It had a little bottle of water and a peanut butter and blueberry sandwich and exactly fifteen green grapes and carrot sticks and a string cheese. And it had a cookie - a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie - but _Lydia_ and _Liam_ said I couldn't have it." Stiles said petulantly. 

Derek bit back a laugh. Of course lunch would be the main focus of the school day. "And why is that?" 

"Because Lydia said too much sugar wasn't good for me and that I had already had fruit. And Liam agreed with her! He ate two brownies, Papa! _Two!_ " 

"Two? How despicable." 

"It wasn't fair, Papa. Fruit sugar is good sugar. That's different from cookies." 

Derek nodded in agreement. "That's right. You were a good boy, listening to Lydia and Liam, though. And I'm sure you thanked Danny for bringing you food." 

"I said thank you a lot. Danny makes good sandwiches and it was way better than cafeteria food." 

"I bet." 

Suddenly, Stiles became quiet, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Derek frowned in worry. Stiles had been chattering away happily just a second ago and it had been music to Derek's ears. For just a second, Stiles had accepted being the pup a little bit. It should have been a great moment, but Derek had a feeling that Stiles' mind thought it was anything but great. 

_You are so fucking stupid. Derek doesn't care about Danny bringing you some dumb sandwich, which - hello - Danny obviously gave you because he thinks you're a baby. And Derek certainly doesn't care that Lydia and Liam took away a cookie from you like you are a baby. Are you noticing a pattern, dumbass? Everyone thinks you're a fucking BABY. And you act like it! Grow up, asshole,_ Stiles thought angrily. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, willing his tears away. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing what a big baby he really was. He didn't want anyone telling their parents about him, because said parents would immediately turn it on John, as if it were his fault. Stiles had already gotten John fired once; he would be damned if he did it again. 

"Stiles, are you okay? Answer me, Stiles. Stiles? Hello?" Scott called. 

"Dude, he's out of it. Is the way he's breathing normal? I think he might be having a freak out." Liam said nervously. 

"Shit. Back off, he's having a panic attack. Derek, do you remember the song?" 

Derek nodded, following Scott's lead as he began to sing softly. 

_I was left to my own devices_

 _Many days fell away with nothing to show_

 _

And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love 

Great clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above 

But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all 

And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you've been here before 

How am I gonna be an optimist about this? How am I gonna be an optimist about this? 

_

Scott had his arms wrapped tightly around Stiles, breathing close to the brunette's ear to help him even out his own breathing. Derek kept singing, starting the song over when it finished. Liam looked on, feeling completely and utterly useless. He hadn't even known that Stiles was prone to panic or anxiety attacks. On that note, why had no one told him? 

Finally, Stiles calmed down, leaning back against Scott's chest as Derek finished out the song for the last time. Despite the love the scene should have contained, it was tense and angry. Derek glared at Scott at some moments and at others, his gaze was soft, eyes searching Stiles' face as if to find what caused the attack. Scott's body was a coiled spring. He knew Derek was livid, and he had every right to be. 

"I'm okay. Can we just go now?" Stiles asked, untangling himself from Scott. 

"I don't think you're okay. What happened? Is somebody screwing with you again?" Liam asked. 

"It was nothing. I don't want to talk about it." 

"You have to eventually, Stiles. It's not good to keep things bottled up." Scott said. 

"I just want to go home. Spare me the third-degree right now, okay? Please." 

Scott stepped back. He had to respect Stiles' space while he tried to figure things out. Grabbing Liam's arm, he led the freshman to his bike as Derek and Stiles' headed to the car. He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. Maybe this whole space thing was easier said than done. 

****

"Alright! We have peas and carrots, chicken, and buttered noodles. Doesn't that sound yummy?" Jordan asked, setting the plate in front of Stiles. 

Stiles shrugged, pushing the peas around his plate. Jordan sighed. He had been so excited about babysitting Stiles - the pup was so cute and he wanted to spend more time with him. It was a little strange, sure, but it didn't bother Jordan. What did bother him was the fact that Stiles was obviously upset, but unwilling to talk about it. He had tried to get Stiles to play or color, because he saw the boy looking at the plastic bin full of toys in the corner of the living room, but Stiles had screamed at him to leave him alone. He had tried giving Stiles a snack, but the teen turned his back to him and pulled his knees to his chest, opting to stare out the window. Jordan did everything he could to maybe get a smile out of Stiles, but everything failed. He had promised John that he would try to treat Stiles more like a baby than a teenager, which Deaton had said would help. Nothing seemed to help, though, and it was aggravating. 

"Okay, Stiles. Let's have a talk." Jordan said, picking Stiles up and putting him on his hip. 

Stiles didn't say anything for a moment, too surprised to form words. How could Jordan pick him up and carry him? He didn't look strong enough, yet he wasn't even breaking a sweat as he walked into the living room with Stiles in his arms. It felt safe, actually. It was like having a human security blanket. Jordan was even toasty warm, too. 

Jordan sat on the couch and settled Stiles in his lap. It was time to get to the bottom of this problem. 

"What's wrong, Stiles?" Jordan asked. 

"Nothing." Stiles replied 

"It's okay to talk about your feelings, kiddo. They're important, too. Sometimes, we overlook them and that's not fair. How are you feeling?" 

Stiles' lip quivered. "I'm fine." 

"No, you're not, Stiles. Talk to me." 

"No. It's stupid." 

"I doubt it. You'll feel better if you let out those feelings. I bet your tummy is tight right now, because all of your feelings are hiding in there and they want to come out." Jordan gently tickled Stiles' stomach. 

"I want to be the pup, but everyone at school makes fun of me because I sometimes suck my thumb without realizing it and they know about my diapers, because no matter what Dada says, they are not discreet. And nothing ever feels right, even when people say it's okay. And I want to be a baby, Jordan, I really do, but then I think of what will happen if a parent finds out and takes it to Dada and tries to get him fired and then it will be all my fault and everyone will be stuck having to take care of me, the stupid, smelly, insane pup who has panic attacks and can't even button his own shorts without help and that's not okay. You all deserve to have lives and lovers and stuff. I don't fit into the equation and this pup stuff? It never goes away. Ever." 

Tears dribbled down Stiles' face and Jordan carefully wiped them away with his thumb. It was no wonder why Stiles was so upset - his mind was going nonstop with nothing but negative scenarios, which the poor kid shouldn't even have been thinking about, let alone worried about. Stiles needed more reassurance, and the pack had to give it to him. His Alpha had to lend a guiding hand and tell him that everything was okay. The pack had to support Stiles with every diaper change and use of a bottle. 

"Hey, hey, shh. Listen to me, Stiles. You are not the problem - people are mean. They hate what they don't understand and push down good people to feel better about themselves. You, Stiles, are the shining star of our pack. You're intelligent and funny and you care more about us than anyone can even comprehend. You will never be a burden. You aren't a burden. I love taking care of you. I know John and Derek love taking care of you. And the girls? Malia went shopping for you. That has to count for something. I know everything is confusing - I can't fully understand it, but I know. Deaton said it was going to be hard, and with how independent and stubborn you are, it seems nearly impossible. We're here for you, Stiles. We love you. And if anyone tells you differently, they're full of it." Jordan said. 

"Thank you, Jordan." Stiles said, hugging the man. 

"Anytime, Stiles." 

"No, I mean it. You're the only person that admits that they don't really know what the struggle is like. Thank you." 

"You're welcome, Stiles. So, how about some dinner?" 

Stiles nodded, biting his lip. "Will you carry me?" 

Jordan said yes, and he had never been happier filling any other request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used is Pompeii by Bastille.


	11. Chapter 11

John pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. There was no way he was winning this one. He was up against the world's best and most persistent negotiator, a woman who took care of cranky patients and bossy, know-it-all parents all day. A force to be reckoned with, Melissa McCall was. She could rope a blind man into buying glasses.

"Melissa, I'll be frank with you. I don't trust Scott right now. I know he's a good kid, but what he did really hurt Stiles. And I know Stiles forgave him, but that was _four days_ ago. It's too soon." John explained. 

"I understand that, John. You want to protect your baby. But in order for Scott to really know how Stiles is changing and how to take care of him, he has to spend time with him. Plus, the boys haven't had a sleepover in a long time. Stiles would love it and I know Scott would, too." Melissa argued. 

"What about diaper changes? Oh, and night problems? Stiles doesn't sleep through the night - just found that out this week, actually." 

"I'll be there, John. Someone has to teach Scott the ropes." 

John sighed once more. He was a sucker when it came to Melissa. "Fine. I'll bring him by around six. Maybe I can actually get some sleep tonight. Thanks." 

"No problem. Bye, John." 

John said his goodbyes before hanging up the phone and turning towards Stiles, who was napping on the couch, thumb in his mouth. The poor kid had bags under his eyes that looked like they should have belonged to a single mother of three. More naps definitely needed to be added to the schedule. Walking over to Stiles, John put a hand on his back and rubbed, speaking softly. 

"Hey, kiddo. It's time to wake up. You want to go see Scotty?" John cooed. 

Whining softly, Stiles stretched out, squirming uncomfortably. He hated the feeling of being woken from naps; he always felt tired and cranky and his body felt heavy, like his brain was awake but his body wasn't quite ready to face the world. Not only that, but he always woke up with messy hair from moving in his sleep and it was annoying. Reaching out to John, Stiles made grabby hands, blushing slightly. Even though he felt better about being a pup, he still felt like he was too little sometimes, almost to the point of being an encumbrance. John took the boy into his arms, kissing his forehead before checking his diaper. 

"Someone's soaked. Ready for a change?" John asked. 

Stiles nodded. "Sorry, Dada." He said. 

"None of that, kiddo. We'll get you changed and then we'll pack for you to go to Scott's." 

"I'm going to Scotty's?" 

"You're going to have a sleepover with him. Doesn't that sound fun?" 

"Going to Scotty's! Yay, Scotty!" 

John put Stiles on the ground and let him run up to his room, noticing the slight wobble in the brunette's step. Seeing Stiles regress so easy and look so comfortable made his heart swell with pride and joy. For once, Stiles was flourishing, on his way to being a healthy, happy boy. 

****

Scott watched closely as Melissa changed Stiles, her experienced hands quickly powdering and re-diapering the brunette in what seemed like seconds. He wished he could be so efficient; he had a feeling that when he changed his best friend for the first time, it was going to be awkward and embarrassing for all parties involved. Even now, Stiles looked shy and embarrassed, looking anywhere but Scott and Melissa and sucking on his pacifier with tense, forceful motions. Scott felt bad for Stiles - it couldn't be easy, going from independent teenager to dependent baby, especially when one's mind was fighting every want and need aggressively. A whimpered pulled Scott from his thoughts, making him look down at Stiles, who was beginning to squirm and cry. 

"Mom, what's wrong with Stiles? He's upset." Scott pointed out. 

"Why don't you ask him, Scott?" Melissa suggested. 

"Stiles, what's wrong? Does he have that colic thing, Mom? I read about that. Maybe his stomach hurts." 

Stiles shook his head in frustration. He didn't know how he was feeling; all he he knew was that he was upset and he wanted his Dada. Everything he was feeling seemed so big, too big for him to handle, and he hated it. He hated not knowing what to do - he _always_ knew what to do, and having no clue was terrifying. Suddenly, Stiles burst into tears, curling in on himself. 

"Oh, poor baby." Melissa murmured, running her fingers through Stiles' hair. 

"Why is he crying? Oh my God, Mom, did I do something? Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Shit, Mom-" Scott babbled. 

"Scott, sweetheart, take a chill pill. One, watch the language. Two, this is completely normal. Babies cry for no known reason sometimes. Their feelings can be very big and they don't know how to deal with it." 

Scott sat on the bed beside Stiles, pulling the brunette into a hug and brushing his lips against his forehead in a soft kiss. He wanted to make the tears stop, to make Stiles smile and laugh. Stiles looked up at Scott, brown eyes bright with tears. Why was Scott hugging him? It was obvious that he had freaked Scott out - that wasn't something that was rewarded usually. In fact, it wasn't rewarded ever. 

"Hey, why don't you boys change into your jammies? The point of a sleepover is to be comfortable. Scott, you think you can get Stiles dressed?" Melissa asked. 

Scott snorted. "I think I've got this, Mom, but thanks." 

Melissa nodded, eyebrows raised in amusement as she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Scott and Stiles to their own devices. Sometimes, her son could be such a cocky little shit. Making her way to the kitchen, Melissa began making snacks. The last thing she needed was Scott blowing up the microwave while making popcorn - she didn't trust him after the time he accidentally put a bag in the microwave for two hours - and there was no way in hell she was giving Stiles soda. Luckily, the brunette had taken to juice as his favorite sweet drink for the past two months. 

"Melissa?" A voice called. 

Melissa bristled. She hadn't even heard anyone come in. "You can't just walk into my house, Raphael. You do not live here." She said. 

"Well, I'm here to pick up my son. He should have been at my house already, but I guess he still needs a ride." Raphael said, walking into the kitchen. 

"You'll have to pick him up tomorrow. Scott's having a guys' night with his friend." 

Raphael scoffed. "Which one? Stilinski's kid? I'm surprised you even got him away from the sheriff. The kid's surgically attached to him lately." 

"Shut up. God, do you even know how ridiculous you sound? A grown man, making fun of a seventeen year old who simply _loves his father._ " 

"I just want my weekend with Scott. Scott! Let's go, papí!" 

"And I told you to wait until tomorrow. Scott and Stiles have been looking forward to this all week." 

"I can call up the lawyer. We can see who he sides with." 

"You fucking prick. You think that just because you've got some fancy badge that you can just -" 

"Melissa?" Stiles asked softly, appearing at the foot of the stairs. 

"What's up, Stiles?" 

"Can I borrow your phone? To call my dad?" 

Melissa handed Stiles her cell phone. "Absolutely. Can you tell Scott to come down, please?" 

Stiles nodded, taking the phone before dashing up the stairs. He hated Raphael - the man made him feel small and stupid. The last thing he wanted was to be in a room with the man any longer than necessary. Melissa turned back to Raphael in time to see him smirk. 

"Are you laughing at him?" Melissa demanded. 

"Come on, it's hard not to. Calling his dad at a sleepover? Scott never did that." Raphael said. 

Melissa rolled her eyes, turning back to fixing snacks. If she had to look at her ex-husband any longer, she would knock him out. She hated how he made made Scott feel guilty and stupid; he always shamed him for the most minute things. Plus, he had always hated Stiles. From the moment the boys had met in first grade, Raphael had deemed Stiles a bad influence. She heard Scott coming down the stairs and she relaxed slightly. If all else failed, she could sick her werewolf on him. 

"What, Dad?" Scott asked, voice clipped. 

"Did you forget that it's my weekend?" Raphael asked. 

"No. I just wanted to hang out with Stiles." 

"Of course. Why hang out with that Danny kid or that really great lacrosse player...Liam, right?" 

"Stop. Look, I'll just come over tomorrow morning and I'll stay Sunday night. Problem solved." 

That's not how it works, Scott. You know that." 

"It can work like that for one weekend." 

Raphael sighed. If being an FBI agent had taught him anything, it was that he had to compromise at times. This was one of those times, apparently . 

"What if we just move your sleepover to my house? I'll stay in my room and you two can have the living room. Sound good?" Raphael asked. 

Scott frowned. "It sounds okay. On one condition." 

"Shoot." 

"You can't be a jerk to Stiles. At all. No matter what." 

"Fair enough. You've got a deal." 

Scott smiled and shook Raphael's hand. Melissa shook her head. She could feel how bad of an idea this was, but she didn't want to ruin whatever sort of spark Scott was having with his father. Filling Stiles' bottle with juice, she walked into the living room and packed it into the brunette's diaper bag. He would need the comfort. 

****

Lydia kept her eyes on the road as she drove, listening to Jackson hum along with the radio. She could tell he was thinking about something. Any number of things, really - what being back in Beacon Hills would be like, how people would react, whether or not the lacrosse team was looking for new players. 

How Scott and the others would feel. What they would do to him out of anger and hate. 

Lydia smiled softly at Jackson, who was staring out the window. He had missed home - no matter what had happened, who he had hurt and killed, he still loved it here. The woods and the salty ocean air had once felt like a vice trapping him in a shitty little town. Now they felt almost liberating. Rolling down the window, Jackson sniffed the air. It was warm and humid, the polar opposite of London. Maybe he could finally get a tan. 

"How did they take it? Knowing that I'm back in town?" Jackson asked. 

Lydia bit her lip. "I haven't told anyone yet." 

"Are you serious? What the fuck, Lydia? They're not just going to be okay with me waltzing back into Beacon Hills. I was never supposed to come back, remember? I promised to stay the hell away from here." 

"Look, a lot has changed since you were here. You're not the only one who has killed people. You're not the only one who has been an asshole. And yes, you're still an ass, but not the one you were before. They'll come around, trust me." 

"Not with a pup, Lydia. You told me that packs get really protective of pups. If they think I'm a danger to Stiles, they were tear my ass in half. I'm too pretty to have my face mutilated, Lyds." 

Lydia rolled her eyes. "I have a plan, okay? Stop being a drama king." 

Jackson snorted in laughter. Lydia was calling _him_ dramatic? She was the most dramatic person he knew; she was in _theatre_ \- it was a requirement for her to be a dramatic scene thief. Besides, Lydia worked it because she was confident and gorgeous. No one could hate that. The two sat in silence for awhile, just enjoying the ride.

After an hour, Lydia pulled into her driveway, putting the car in park. Jackson was out of the car in an instant, stretching himself out. The words clown car came to his mind when he though of Lydia's tiny Prius. As soon as his muscles relaxed, he began unloading his bags, allowing Lydia to unlock the front door. 

"Just put your things in the guest room, Jackson. I'm going to order dinner. Thai?" Lydia asked. 

"You know what I like." Jackson said. 

Lydia giggled before sauntering off as Jackson climbed the stairs and went to his room. He tossed his bags onto the floor before flopping onto the bed. His flight had been long and tedious - sleep sounded great. Shutting his eyes, Jackson began to drift off. The Thai food would have to wait. 

****

Raphael snickered as he watched Stiles, who had his head resting against Scott's chest and his thumb buried in his mouth. The two boys had been in that position for an hour watching _Captain America_ \- Scott's favorite - and eating popcorn. They looked like they were on a date. Raphael made a face. His son could do so much better than a spastic, insensitive asshole like Stiles. The only thing that shattered the allusion was Stiles sucking his thumb and looking like he was moments away from falling fast asleep to the sound of Scott's heartbeat. 

It was hilarious to think that the son of the sheriff - a teen who should have been fairly popular, athletic, and a hit with the ladies - was such a pansy. The past two months, Raphael watched John leave and come back with Stiles in tow because he was being teased or because he had an upset stomach. No one ever got angry with him - they knew how much his only son meant to him. That didn't mean Raphael liked it. Stiles was a menace, plain and simple. 

Scott whispered something into Stiles' ear before getting up and bounding up the stairs. Stiles paused the movie before curling up and making tiny snuffling noises as he found a comfortable spot. He was so tired - this was the time when John would usually tell him to go to bed and tuck him in. Scott wouldn't mind if he took a teeny, tiny nap while he was gone. 

"Is someone a tired baby?" Raphael mocked. 

Stiles' eyes snapped open, a whimper involuntarily escaping his lips. "No. I'm just waiting with my eyes closed. It relieves stress." He said. 

"And you must be very stressed, right? Cuddling with Scott and sucking your thumb?" 

Stiles blushed. "I don't have to explain myself to you." 

"Of course not. By the way, that's quite a bit of padding you've got on." 

Stiles choked on his words. So fucking noticeable - diapers were _so fucking noticeable_ that even Raphael had seen them. Sitting up, Stiles pulled down his shirt in an attempt to hide the extra bulk on his lower half. Unfortunately, the pack had done their shopping well; all of his night shirts were cut short for easy changing. God damn Lydia and her planning. There was no way Stiles was hiding anything. 

"What's the matter? Does the baby have a wet diaper? You better go fix that before you get a rash and Daddy has to take you to the doctor. I wonder how you'll explain that one, smart ass." Raphael sneered. 

"Dr. Martinez knows that I have problems. He said it's okay." Stiles blurted. 

Raphael snorted. "You're such an idiot." 

Hearing Scott's footsteps on the stairs, Raphael disappeared into the kitchen to get to his room from the other staircase. There was no way he could let Scott catch him getting his laugh for the night. 

"Alright, I want to see Captain America kick some HYDRA as - butt. Kick some HYDRA butt. Come find you comfy spot again." Scott said, grinning widely. 

"I'm okay. I think I have to go to the potty - the bathroom! I have to go to the bathroom." Stiles stammered. 

Scott raised an eyebrow, following Stiles up the stairs. Deaton had said Stiles wouldn't know when he had to go or how to hold it. There was no way a change like that could happen so suddenly. Stiles had left the bathroom door open in his haste and Scott peaked in, finding his friend standing at the toilet with tears in his eyes, his pajama bottom and diaper pooled at his feet, leaving him half naked. Scott frowned, stepping into the bathroom. 

"Come on, don't be shy. Just please? Please, please, please. I can do this - I'm an adult." Stiles muttered to himself, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

"Stiles, it's okay that you can't, you know, _go_ like that. Pups can't control that." Scott comforted. 

Stiles turned to Scott. "But I can! I can, Scotty, I can, I can, I can! I don't want Dada to hate me because I'm gross! I don't want the pack to be forced to change me!" 

"Where's this coming from, dude? I know you get a little embarrassed, but that's normal. You're not used to it. And it's new to us, too. I've never changed a diaper before! It's a lot to get used to. Who told you that you were gross? Do you want me to talk to them? Use the weird Alpha stuff? I can do that! I can do that all day long!" 

"You don't think I'm gross? Or a big baby?" 

"Nope. Let's get you dressed again and we'll finish out the movie." 

"Okay. Thank you, Scotty." 

"No problem, Stiles." 

Scott slowly but surely put Stiles back in his diaper and pants before heading down to the living room and allowing Stiles to find his spot on his chest again. Stiles felt his eyes begin to droop again, his mouth beginning to suck an imaginary bottle. He wondered why John never put him to bed in the rocking chair with a bottle. He would love that. 

Scott smiled softly and kissed Stiles' forehead, digging around in his pocket for Stiles' pacifier. Once he found it, he put it in the brunette's mouth to give him something to suckle besides air. Maybe having a pup wasn't so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! So, sorry for the long wait, hut I had finals and driver's and and this guy just got a learner's permit. I had a bit of writer's block while writing this, so sorry if it doesn't flow super well. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Peter had always loved kids. When Derek and Cora had been pups, he had easily taken on the role of caretaker, playing with and reading to his niece and nephew, bathing and feeding and changing them with ease. Not only had it come naturally, but it was fun. Kids were filled with a contagious curiosity and an overwhelming innocence that made them cute. Even Peter couldn't hate little kids or babies, and he was as close to the big bad wolf as it got. That's why Peter loved Stiles. The pup was going to be fairly young - much too little for bathing or feeding himself - and he was going to need constant care.

As soon as he actually fully accepted being the pup, of course. 

Peter flipped through a magazine on the couch, not even looking up as Derek came through the door. He had to play it cool. He couldn't just swoop Stiles up and start tickling him, like he used to do with Derek. Though, the teen's reaction would be hilarious. 

"Peter, I need you to watch Stiles for a while. I have some _business matters_ that need discussing." Derek said. 

"You don't have to announce your bathroom habits, Derek." Peter snickered. 

"You know what I mean. It'll just be for a few hours. Stiles will be napping for most of it anyway, won't you, pup?" 

Stiles yawned largely as he nodded. "Tired." He said, thumb slipping into his mouth. 

Peter smirked as Derek kissed Stiles' forehead and stared down at the teen lovingly. His nephew was so gone for Stilinski that it wasn't even funny. 

"My sleepy pup. Just give him a snack before his nap - something healthy. If he's not hungry, don't push it. Just give him a bottle of milk to lay down with." Derek said. 

"Christ, Derek, I'm not incompetent. I can take care of a kid." Peter said, vexed. 

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me for being protective, but you're not exactly the best choice for a babysitter." 

"Hey! I raised you and you're not a huge psychopath!" 

"But _you_ are. Okay, Stiles, Papa has to go. Be a good boy for Peter." 

Stiles whimpered, gripping Derek's shirt. He didn't want Derek to leave. They were supposed to be together all afternoon until Scott picked him up. Stiles let out a small sob that clawed at Derek's heart. How could he say no to that? 

"Stay, Papa. I wanna nap with you." Stiles whispered. 

"Tomorrow, Stiles, I promise. I have to go." Derek said. 

Stiles sniffled, but released Derek's shirt, allowing the older man to leave. It wouldn't be so bad if Derek was coming back. Derek kissed Stiles' forehead one last time before walking out the door, leaving Peter and Stiles alone together. Peter took Stiles' hand and smiled. 

"So, snack time. You like apples?" Peter asked. 

Stiles nodded. "I'm not hungry, though." He said. 

"Too tired, huh?" 

Stiles made grabby hands at Peter, waiting to be picked up. Granting Stiles' wish, Peter picked him up and set him on his hip. Stiles was alarmingly light; he'd have to tell Derek. Peter walked into the living room and dug around in the diaper bag for Stiles' bottle, smiling triumphantly when he found one labeled 'MILK'. 

Once Peter had a warm bottle ready, he settled Stiles on the couch with his milk, watching the boy struggle to stay awake as he suckled. There was no way he would make it much longer - a tummy full of warm milk, a comfortable place to lay down, and a few nonsense coos was all it usually took for Derek, and given that Stiles and Derek were both as hardheaded and full of willpower as they came, it was probably all it would take for Stiles as well. Sure enough, Stiles was out like a light before he even finished his bottle, mouth still working at the teat as he slept. Peter carefully removed the bottle and replaced it with a pacifier. This was a piece of cake; Derek was just underestimating him. 

****

Liam was freaking out. He couldn't do this! Not with Derek sitting in the passenger seat and Jordan in the back watching him, _judging_ him. He put the key in the ignition, Stiles' Jeep roaring to life beneath him. Oh my God, he was screwed. If he messed up Stiles' car, Stiles would kill him. 

"It's alright, Liam. Just relax. Tense drivers always do worse. Deep breath." Jordan said kindly. 

"What if I wreck Stiles' car? He'll immediately snap into his older mindset and murder me in my sleep!" Liam panicked. 

"Look, Liam, you're a new driver. You've had your permit for about a week. Stiles knows that; he's okay with this. We asked more than once. Just put it in reverse and back out of the driveway." Derek instructed. 

Liam nodded, doing as told. He smoothly backed out of the Stilinski driveway and turned right. That wasn't so bad - maybe he really would be okay. Jordan grinned and pointed to an intersection. 

"Alright. Who has the right of way here?" Jordan asked. 

"Uhm, the guy to my right, then the guy on the three lane street." Liam said. 

"Awesome." 

Liam waited his turn before turning left, heading towards Scott's house. He was doing great! Maybe it was just his driver's ed instructor that made him too nervous to drive. Jordan and Derek were awesome. 

"Change the radio station." Derek said. 

"What? No! I'm not taking my hand off the wheel!" Liam exclaimed. 

"Liam, it's okay to move your hand once in awhile. Just keep your other hand steady. Change the radio." 

"I can't do it, Derek! What if I swerve? I'll crash!" 

"You'll be fine. Just do it. Also, speed up. You're going twenty-five in a forty-five zone." 

Liam screamed in frustration, pulling the car over and putting it in park before banging his head against the steering wheel. Of course he wasn't going fast enough. He couldn't do anything right; why should he be able to drive well? He was too scared to even change the damn radio station. Derek and Jordan were probably laughing at him. A horn blared from behind Liam, making him growl. Couldn't this asshole see that he had his parking lights on? That he had done everything right in order to pullover? 

"Go around, douchenozzle!" Liam yelled. 

"Fuck you, kid!" The other driver yelled, throwing up his middle finger before speeding away. 

Liam groaned. This was supposed to be a chance to prove that he was responsible. He knew the pack didn't trust him - he wasn't an idiot. He just wanted to be a part of things, to be able to take care of Stiles more and not be seen as some kind of ticking time bomb. 

"It's okay, buddy. Just calm down a little. You weren't doing bad. Derek was right - you can't go so slowly. Trust me, it took me a year to find the gas pedal after I got my permit." Jordan said. 

"Maybe we should just stick with basics. No adjusting or anything until you are more comfortable. Now, let's get back on the road." Derek said. 

Liam put the Jeep back in drive and started to head towards Scott's once more. He was freaking out, but maybe he could still do this. 

****

"Is the great Jackson Whittemore nervous?" Lydia teased, poking Jackson's arm. 

"No! I've just never been in a Babies 'R' Us before. Everyone's going to think I knocked you up." Jackson said. 

"Come on, all you're doing is picking out a toy for Stiles. It's not that hard." 

"I want it to be his lovey, Lyds. It can't just be any toy." 

Lydia giggled at Jackson's faint British accent. "What a softy." 

Jackson rolled his eyes. "I just want the guy to not cry when he sees me. All kids like presents, right? Also, I don't want to get into a bitch fight with McCall." 

Lydia smiled as Jackson wandered through the isles, pointing out things that he liked and things he thought were tacky. He spent a long time in an isle with baby blankets, running his hands over them as if testing their softness. Maybe a blanket would be a good gift - they were warm and soft and comforting. What baby didn't want a special blanky? Jackson searched and searched for one with a perfect design. After ten minutes, his eyes landed on a soft, cream colored blanket with deep brown borders that had a red fox stitched in the corner. He quickly grabbed it. 

"What do you think about this, Lydia?" Jackson asked. 

"It's adorable! Stiles loves foxes. Oh, I can't wait to get pictures of him with it!" Lydia gushed. 

Jackson smiled brightly. Of course he picked out the best gift ever; he was Jackson Whittmore. Perfect was in his genes. He and Lydia continued to look around. She was cooing over the baby clothes, a sad look in her eyes. She wished Stiles could wear things like this: shirts that said 'Daddy's Boy', footie pajamas, light up sneakers. Jackson put a hand on her back to comfort her. 

"It's okay, Lydia. We can make him one of those shirts with iron-on patches." Jackson offered. 

Lydia sighed. "It's not the same. I just wish there was a place to buy things like this for Stiles." She said, voice quavering with the promise of tears. 

"We can find a place! Just don't cry, Lydia. I can't do tears. We can check the Internet." 

"If you say so. Let's go look at the plush toys. You can find his lovey." 

Jackson felt his cheeks heat up. Lydia was never going to let that go. All babies needed a stuffed animal to love and sleep with. Across the pond, people called them loveys. He couldn't help that he was a worldly, cultured man with a hot accent now. Lydia pulled Jackson to the toy isle and watched with a smile as he looked around for the perfect toy. After all, a Whittemore accepted nothing but the best. 

****

Peter should have seen something like this coming. The couch was so small and Stiles rolled and moved uncontrollably in his sleep. It was only a matter of time before he fell off the couch and Peter had to comfort him like he was doing now. Stiles was terrified, clinging to Peter and wailing, soaking Peter's shirt in not only tears, but drool and snot. Peter simply rubbed the pup's back, offering soothing words in an effort to calm him. 

It wasn't exactly working, though. Mixed with the sobbing were cries of 'Dada' and 'Papa' and there was even a 'Daddy' thrown in there. Stiles didn't want Peter; he wanted one of his normal caregivers. Peter didn't know how to give good hugs and cuddles like Scott or how to burp him after a bottle so he didn't get a stomach ache - like he had now - like John or even how to play like Derek, who always pretended to eat his toes while changing him to make him less embarrassed. Peter began to pat Stiles' back gently, rocking a little, hoping the motion would make Stiles feel even a little better. The pup was fine physically, anyway; the fall had just scared him. 

After a few minutes, Peter was almost ready to give up. The sobbing was still full force and Stiles had begun squirming, making it harder to hold onto him. Cooing softly, Peter began to bounce Stiles. Suddenly, Stiles burped loudly, sending a small bit of spit-up all over Peter's shoulder. The crying lessened, making Peter sigh in relief. A little puke was far better than crying. 

"Sorry, Peter." Stiles whimpered. 

"It's alright, pup. All that crying for a little burp, though, really?" Peter asked. 

Stiles began to tear up again. "N-N-No, I fell and it was scary and then my tummy hurt and - and I'm sorry." 

"Stiles, Stiles, it's okay. I was joking, don't cry. Hey, who wants a snack? Snacks are delicious." 

Peter set Stiles down, leading the teen into the kitchen. After telling Stiles to sit at the table, Peter grabbed an apple, popped one claw, and began peeling it. Stiles watched attentively, fascinated. Peter's claws were super sharp. He even sliced the apple with his claws, putting it on a plate with a side of peanut butter. Peter set the plate in front of Stiles and sat across from him. Stiles began to eat, giggling as he dipped his apple slices in the peanut butter. 

"Well, you're easy to please, aren't you?" Peter asked, wiping a bit of peanut butter from Stiles' nose. 

Stiles didn't respond, staring out the window and into the wide expanse of the woods. He knew there was a little creek not too far from the house - it would be so much fun to play in. Not that Stiles wanted to play, of course. 

"Do you want to play outside after you finish up?" Peter asked. 

"Really? Can we?" Stiles asked excitedly. 

"It can be arranged. Eat your apple and we'll go." 

Stiles nodded, shoved three apple slices in his mouth, and ran to the door. He was definitely ready to go. Peter smirked, walking over to Stiles and guiding him back to the table. He held out his hand, telling Stiles to spit out his mouthful. 

"Slow down, kid. There's plenty of time. Take it. Don't put so much in your mouth." Peter admonished. 

Stiles nodded again. He supposed he could wait a little while longer. 

****

"Peter, what the hell?" Derek asked, cleaning a scrape on Stiles' knee. 

"It's just a scratch. Barely even noticeable. It happens, Derek. Pups are clumsy; they get hurt." Peter said. 

"Did he like the creek, at least? He hasn't been in the woods much. Everything must have seemed big and new to him." 

"It was really fun, Papa. We saw a turtle and I named him Bruce. Peter said maybe we can see him again tomorrow." Stiles said happily. 

"Maybe, Stiles. Does it hurt much?" 

"Not a lot. But, uhm, maybe -" 

Derek raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Stiles?" 

"Kisses will make it heal faster. It's medically proven to be super important." 

"Is it? Well, if it's medical science, I guess it's needed." 

Derek gently kissed the band-aid covered abrasion, then Stiles' cheek, making Stiles blush. Derek knew how to make everything feel better.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always. Keep being awesome!

Raphael resisted the urge to growl as he walked into the police station, spotting Stiles sitting at John's desk beside the sheriff, scribbling away at his homework. He couldn't seem to get away from the damn kid; Stiles was always with Scott, he was practically John's conjoined twin, and even the _deputy_ \- James or Jackson or Jordan or whatever the hell his name was - hung out with him at the station. Was there anybody in Beacon Hills that didn't spend time with Stiles? Why in God's name would anyone even want to be around the spastic little shit? 

In an attempt to ignore the teen's presence, Raphael escaped to his office, burying himself in his work. The McCarthy case needed to be put into motion and he didn't have anymore time to waste thinking about Stiles. 

"McCall, you have those images from the McCarthy file? I want to get them pinned up." John said. 

"Work on your own cases, Stilinski. Maybe that basket case of a son you have would be a good place to start." McCall snarled. 

"This is my station, Raphael. I'm the sheriff and I had that file on my desk this morning. Your FBI badge means jack squat to me. I want those images now. And I swear to God, if you talk about my son like that again, I'll report your ass." 

"I'm not scared of a man who's already been fired for his incompetence and failure to close cases. I don't know how you're still employed." 

"I don't know why you don't go back to Seattle to play big shot FBI agent." 

Raphael hissed, shoving the pictures at John. One would think that a local law enforcement officer would respect his superiors, that they would be happy to have an experienced and knowledgeable agent on their force. John Stilinski was just as annoying and stubborn as his son. The apple didn't fall from the tree, apparently. Grabbing the file, John turned to walk out the door, eager to get a jump on the case. If he could get something done today, he could leave early and have time with Stiles. 

"Hey, Stilinski?" Raphael called. 

"What, McCall?" John gritted out. 

"Just make sure Stiles doesn't leak through his diaper. Wouldn't want a big mess, would we?" 

John heard a few snickers from the other officers. "Shut your mouth, McCall. You don't know _anything_ about my son. Don't tell me how to raise my kid when you couldn't even stick around for yours. Any parent would be lucky to have a kid like Scott and you abandoned him and Melissa. So, screw off." 

John stormed out of the office, trying to burn off his anger before he saw Stiles. The last thing he wanted right now was for Stiles to think that he was angry with him. The pup had been doing so well: less trouble at school, an easier time regressing for the most part, enjoying time with the pack. John didn't want to destroy his son's fragile self-esteem and confidence. When he got back to his office, Stiles was still absorbed in his homework, his mouth absently sucking on an invisible pacifier. John grinned, his anger melting away - there was no way he could be mad when his son was being so adorable. 

"How's the homework coming, kiddo?" John asked. 

Stiles shrugged. "I finished." He said absently. 

"Good job! Are you coloring now?" 

Stiles blushed, looking past his dad to see Raphael talking to Haigh - a rather dickish deputy - and laughing. He knew they were talking about him; it was obvious by the way they would glance at John's office. The embarrassment that would come from Stiles confirming that he was in fact coloring - with crayons Jordan gave him for being a 'good boy' last time he babysat him, no less - would be legendary, and if Raphael didn't have enough to work with now, he would after that confession. Stiles put up his crayons and crumpled the picture he was working on, tossing the offending piece of paper in the trashcan. His lip began to tremble. Now John would never see the picture he drew for him. 

"Stiles, it's okay if you want to color. I just wanted to be sure that you finished your homework. Dada's not mad." John promised, smoothing down Stiles' hair. 

Haigh let out an ugly snort of laughter as Raphael gestured to his lower half, making Stiles' eyes fill with tears. As much as Stiles hated the agent, he wanted to be on his good side. Raphael was still Scott's father, and Stiles wanted to prove to Scott that he could be civil. Suddenly, Stiles shot up from his chair and ran out of the office and into the bathroom, locking himself into a stall. He was going to use the toilet if it killed him. He wasn't sure if he had to go or not, but he would stay there until he did. That would prove that he wasn't a baby. He wasn't a baby at all. 

John looked around the bullpen for his son, eyes filled with worry. These little episodes - demanding to do things himself, insisting that he could use the bathroom - had become common for the last two weeks. Spotting Jordan at the front desk, John wandered over to him. The brunette probably knew where exactly Stiles had gone. Jordan had eyes like a hawk when it came to the teen. 

"Parrish, did you see where Stiles went? He's acting weird. Which is saying quite a bit, because my son is pretty weird in general." John said. 

"I think he went to the bathroom. Is he okay, Sheriff? He looked like he was getting ready to cry." Jordan said. 

"I don't know. He's been like this since his sleepover with Scott." 

"Maybe you should enlist Lydia's help. She's psychic, right? She could probably get to the bottom of it, especially if he doesn't want to talk." 

John groaned at the thought. Having a pup for a son was supernatural enough for him, thank you very much. "I think I'll just try talking to him. Maybe he's just have big feelings again." 

Jordan shrugged. "Good luck." 

John tapped the desk twice before going off to find Stiles in the bathroom. He knocked on the door of the handicap stall, knowing that was most likely where Stiles was. A creature of habit, Stiles was, when it came to these things. A tiny sob came from the other side of the door, making John sigh. 

"I'm coming in." John said, sliding beneath the door. 

The fact that there was no protest ate away at John. It meant Stiles was giving in, that he was too tired to fight anymore or pretend that he was okay. That wasn't like him at all. Stiles had his diaper and pants poled on the floor, his shoes haphazardly tossed on the floor, clad only in a t-shirt and socks. John put a hand on Stiles' back, patting softly. 

"My poor baby boy. You're not okay, are you?" John whispered. 

Stiles shook his head. "No, Dada." He said. 

"Let's have a little chat, then. Back in your bottoms, kiddo." 

Stiles gave John a helpless look. He had experienced enough difficulty getting out of the clothes - getting them back on was going to be a nightmare. Nonetheless, Stiles grabbed for his diaper and pants, cheeks aflame as he began trying to tape the protective undergarment around his waist. John waited silently for Stiles to ask for help. He had to let Stiles come to him. 

"Help, Dada." Stiles whimpered. 

"Of course. Dada's gonna get this all taken care of." John cooed. 

Stiles laid down and let John dress him, thumb creeping into his mouth. So much for proving that he wasn't a baby. 

"What is this about, Stiles? You can't tell when you need to go anymore. I thought we had this sorted out." John said. 

"I just want Raphael to like me." Stiles whispered. 

"Raphael McCall? Why?" 

"Because he's Scott's Dada! I love Scott and I hate that Raphael thinks I'm a baby. He - He made fun of my diapers and laughed at me for sucking my thumb and cuddling with Scott. I want him to like him so he won't bother Scott anymore." 

"When did this happen?" 

"When I slept at Scott's house. It was Raphael's weekend and Melissa had to let Scott go. Raphael said I could stay too and then he," Stiles shrugged, hiccuping softly, "You know the rest." 

John didn't say anything as he helped Stiles into his jeans and brought him to his feet. It seemed that Melissa hadn't even listened to him when he had said that Stiles still needed constant reassurance. That was going to be fixed. 

As soon as John got Stiles squared away. 

****

The field was just as Jackson had remembered. Mostly green with a few patches of dead grass, the same frayed nets that had graced the field since the eighties, and the same Coach Finstock yelling ridiculous insults. Most of the team was already warming up and running laps, leaving Jackson unsure of what to do. He could see Scott and Stiles stretching with Danny and some little freshman kid, tempted to ho over, but he couldn't risk them knowing he was back. For now, his helmet had to stay on and he had to refrain from ruffling any feathers, which was like asking the sun not to come up in the morning.

"Alright, line up! Danny, get on goal!" Finstock yelled. 

Jackson watched Danny hustle towards the goal. Well, at least some things never changed. Jackson stepped into line, the weight of his stick in his hands filling him with confidence. He was going to rock this. The whistle blew and the drill began, Danny catching shot after shot, minus those made by Scott and Little Freshman and he purposely missed Stiles' shot. Jackson smirked at that. Danny must have developed a soft spot for the baby. Finally, Jackson stepped up and pulled back, letting the ball fly. It went right into the net. 

"You've still got it, J. W.! Keep it coming!" Finstock cheered. 

As Jackson jogged to the back of the line, he saw Scott look at his with a scowl, eyes glowing red. That was something Jackson hadn't expected - Scott being an Alpha. If he fucked anything up, he was dead. 

"Scotty, maybe he's just good like Liam was. You said to give the benefit of the doubt." Stiles whispered, making Jackson look at him. 

"Right. He just smells off, like I've scented him before." Scott replied. 

"It's probably nothing. If we aren't focused, Coach will make us run suicide laps." 

Scott laughed. "Until we actually die, if he has it his way." 

Jackson bristled. Scott could smell him; it was only a matter of time before he recognized the scent. He could practically feel Scott's claws digging into his torso and slicing upward, providing him a swift - but painful - demise. Jackson shook his head. Scott wasn't that cold-blooded. Turning his attention back to practice, Jackson stepped up for his turn. His werewolf problems would have to wait until after he kicked ass in lacrosse. 

****

John glared at Melissa from across the check-in counter, hating the way she glared right back. He was pissed - why couldn't she see that? She had let his little boy go with that monster and get ridiculed. If he would have done the same to Scott, Melissa would have eaten him alive. 

"I trusted you. You said he would be okay, that you were going to show Scott the ropes. Do you know what kind of crap we're having to go through? How many times I've found Stiles crying in front of the toilet in a puddle of his own piss? I can't see him like this, Melissa. It's making everyone miserable." John ranted. 

"I'm sorry, John. I've said that already. The boys were so excited and I thought with Scott there, nothing would happen. It was an accident, John. A _mistake._ We all make them. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd try to keep the boys apart because I screwed up." Melissa said. 

John sighed. Well, if he didn't feel like an asshole now. "Look, Mel, I'm sorry. I'm just - Stiles is so sensitive right now. He's a minefield; we never know what will set him off. He's my little boy and I want to see him happy. But Raphael is being an ass, even at the station. I know he and Stiles don't have the best history, but making fun of his diapers? That's a low blow, even for him." 

"I'll try to talk to him, but I can't make any promises. I'm really sorry, John. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Stiles." 

"It'll be alright. We just have to try to calm him down again. Nothing we haven't done already." 

Melissa smiled sympathetically. She knew what it was like to just want to keep a child safe. Her son was a werewolf - she worried about him even in her sleep. Waving goodbye to John, she turned back to her work. As much as she loved talking with John, even when he was upset with her, she had to actually do her work. At least she could say she was providing information for a case. 

"What did the Sheriff need? Making an appointment?" Dr. Martinez asked, walking up to Melissa. 

"No, doctor. Casework and whatnot." Melissa answered, filling out paperwork. 

"Oh. Well, have you heard anymore on Stiles? Is he feeling any better?" 

Melissa shook her head. "He's still having accidents and, unfortunately, they don't seem to be going away. But John is coping, as well as Stiles. Don't worry - John would bring him in if something was really wrong." 

"Okay then. I was just wondering. He's an interesting case, Stiles." 

"That he is. If you don't mind, doctor, I have a lot of work to do." 

Dr. Martinez smiled. "Of course." 

With that, Dr. Martinez went on his way, leaving Melissa feeling uneasy. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten that fish for lunch. 

****

"I love this one on you, Kira. Red is your color." Lydia said, watching Kira twirl in front of her mirror. 

"Really? It's a little," Kira tugged at the hem of the dress, "Short." 

"Well, it is _mine,_ and you are taller than me. But it's a good short. It'll drive Scott crazy at the party." 

Malia growled. "Why do we all have to wear dresses? What's wrong with jeans? Jeans can be nice. Guys like jeans." 

"Malia, this is a party where you want to look hot. You're single, and that dress makes you look ready to mingle." 

Kira sighed and flopped down in a chair. She wasn't sure how she felt about this party. She had never been to an unsupervised party, much less one where there could possibly be alcohol, among other things. Call her a prude or a goody two shoes, but she liked to stay out of trouble. Lydia stood and began digging trough her closet, searching for her own outfit. She certainly couldn't be the least fabulous of her friends, could she? Not when Malia was looking absolutely fierce in a sapphire blue dress with black knee high boots and Kira was looking like a sexy spy in her red ensemble. Settling on a shimmering green frock, Lydia began to strip. The dress was going to make her eyes pop. That was what Jackson had said the first time she had worn it. 

"Wow, Lyds, that dress still looks amazing on you." Jackson said, leaning in the doorway. 

"Aw, thanks." Lydia said. 

"Who the hell are you?" Malia asked, snarling softly. 

Jackson's eyes widened as he began to back out of the room. How could he have been so stupid? He was supposed to be laying low! Malia stood, walking towards Jackson with her teeth bared. She didn't like the look of this man. Sniffing at him, Malia growled. He even smelled suspicious. Kira stood, reaching out to Malia. She didn't want her friend getting too worked up. Tonight was supposed to be fun and exciting. Death was not supposed to be in the cards. 

"Oh, that's just my cousin, Kyle. He's from London. Harmless, gay cousin Kyle." Lydia lied, giving Jackson a poisonous look. 

"See, Malia? He's safe. Calm down." Kira soothed, patting Malia's back. 

"I'll be watching you. I don't trust you." Malia said simply, heading back to the bed. 

"You can leave now, Kyle. This is girl time." Lydia said, closing the door in Jackson's face. 

Lydia sighed. She had just dodged a pretty big bullet. Clapping her hands together, she turned back to Kira and Malia, hoping to make them forget about the past few minutes. 

"Hair and make-up time!" Lydia exclaimed, clapping excitedly. 

Kira and Malia groaned in unison.


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles groaned as his back hit the ground again. Lacrosse practice was proving to be especially brutal today with Garrett on defense. The blonde was out to get him, it seemed, and even when Stiles didn't have the ball, Garrett would knock the wind out of him. It was starting to hurt his feelings, honestly, and Stiles could feel a trembling lip coming on. Getting back into position, Stiles felt a sudden surge of frustration, his eyes flashing purple. He wanted to win and Garrett wasn't playing fair. Stiles was going to fix that.

The whistle blew and Stiles ran towards Garrett, determined to show the blonde how it felt to be checked hard every play. He bared his teeth in anger. Stupid Garrett thought he was so cool and tough and he was really just a jerk. Before Stiles could get to Garrett, he stumbled, legs wobbling as he began to lose balance. Before he knew it, he fell right on his padded bottom and tears sprang to his eyes. Garrett leaned down and grabbed the face guard of Stiles' helmet. 

"I guess it's a good thing you've got plenty of padding down there, huh, Spazlinski? Oh, are you crying? You need your pacifier? Get up and give me a challenge, freak." Garrett hissed. 

Stiles whimpered. "I-I just lost my balance." 

"Poor baby. Maybe we should get you a walker since you apparently can't walk yet. Don't worry; maybe you'll get there before you graduate. Then you can shit your pants while you walk across the stage." 

Tears dripped down Stiles' face. He couldn't do this anymore. "Stop it. You're a jerk, Garrett." 

Garrett snorted. "Truth hurts, spaz. Scott barely puts up with you as it stands. You really think he'd rather deal with your fucking fits and diaper changes than be with that hot girlfriend of his? You've got to be fucking delusional. And Liam? Please. He wants to fuck you so bad he can taste it. That's the only reason he sticks around you. Once he's got you, you'll be a quick lay. You're a fucking slut - everyone knows that shit." 

"Scotty - Scott is my best friend." 

"Only because you're his charity case." 

Stiles tried to hold back his sobs and failed. He got to his feet and ran back to the locker room. He wanted to go home. He wanted to quit lacrosse, to just lie in bed and cry until this blanket of darkness faded from him. He was tired and upset and miserable. He wanted everyone to just leave him alone and to play with his pack. He wished he had never become the pup; all it had caused was trouble and he had become a burden. He pulled off his jersey and shorts, tossing them into his locker before reaching for his street clothes. He pulled on his top with a disgusted sigh - it was pale green with a small bumble bee stitched in the corner. How much more childish could it get? He slipped his shorts on and tried to button them, whining when he couldn't. He needed help, but he would be damned if he was going to ask for it. Scott, Liam, Danny, and Kira were all having fun at practice. Why should he ruin that? 

Plopping down on a bench, Stiles put his head in his hands. He felt sick to his stomach, like he was going to puke any moment. He wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. Then no one would have to deal with him ever again. 

"Need help?" A voice asked. 

Stiles bristled, turning to see who had come in. When he saw the new guy - the one who never seemed to take his helmet off - he relaxed a bit. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. You don't want to get caught talking to me." He said. 

"Come on, I heard what that ass - jerk - said to you. No one deserves that. You want to talk about it?" 

"Not with you. I don't know you. How do I know that this isn't some kind of _Carrie_ style prank you planned with Garrett?" 

The other teen sighed. "You'll just have to trust me." 

"Take your helmet off and maybe we'll talk." 

"No. I have a really, uh, hideous birthmark. It's gross. I always cover it up." 

Stiles nodded. He knew how it felt to want to cover up. "I can't button my pants." 

"I can fix that. Stand up." 

Stiles did as told as the other boy took off his gloves. With nimble fingers - Christ, was Stiles jealous - he buttoned Stiles' short and even adjusted the elastic in the waist so they fit more snugly. Stiles blushed. Well, at the mystery player wasn't teasing him. 

"Thank you." Stiles whispered. 

"No problem. My name's Jackson, by the way." The boy, Jackson, said. 

"I used to know someone named Jackson. He wasn't as nice as you at all." 

Jackson made a hurt noise. "Right. Well, we should get back on the field. Scott's really worried about you. I had to stop him from coming in here. I figured it might make it worse." 

"It would have. Thanks." 

"No problem. Hey, and ignore Garrett. I know his type - he just wants to make himself feel better. He was lying to you." 

Stiles nodded, unsure. Jackson's words had made him feel better, but he wanted reassurance from someone else, too. As he trudged back to the field, Stiles couldn't help but feel that he knew Jackson. There was something he was missing. What exactly it was, Stiles didn't know. 

But he was going to find out. 

****

Liam nervously stood at the door of the Stilinski household. His lip had already busted open once from him biting down on it in an attempt to quell his worry, but it had only resulted in a short gush of blood before his healing kicked in and patched it up. He was still nervous as hell; he was being allowed to babysit Stiles on his own for the first time and he was afraid he would screw it up. It had taken a lot of convincing - and begging, if Liam was honest - before the older pack members gave him the okay to watch Stiles. Liam didn't want to show them that he wasn't as responsible as he said he was. Taking a deep breath, Liam rung the doorbell. It was now or never.

"Hey, Liam. Come on in. I'll be out of here in a few, but until then, make yourself at home." John said, shaking Liam's hand. 

"Thank you, Mr. Stilinski. Where's Stiles?" Liam asked. 

"Napping. I'm about to go wake him up. Actually, can you do that for me? I need to finish getting ready and I'd really appreciate it." 

"Yeah! I mean, yes sir. My pleasure." 

John smiled. "Thanks." 

Liam followed John up the stairs, peeking into the room the sheriff had said belonged to Stiles. Sure enough, the brunette was sleeping soundly. A barrier of pillows surrounded him as he rested, making Liam grin. Stiles was adorable. John disappeared into his own room, leaving Liam at Stiles' door. The pup looked so peaceful; what right did Liam have to disturb that? Nonetheless, he walked into the room and stood at the edge of Stiles' bed, gently shaking the teen. When brown eyes looked up at him, Liam put on his biggest, goofiest smile. 

"Hey there, sleepyhead. Good nap?" Liam asked. 

Stiles rubbed his eyes. "Why are you here, Liam?" He asked. 

"We're going to hang out together tonight, since your dad has to go to work. Sounds fun, right? We'll play and eat dinner and do whatever you do with your dad." 

"Dada gives me baths. You're not supposed to see me naked." 

"Well, uh, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. I mean, I change you at school - I've seen your bits - and we have the same equipment." 

Stiles' face suddenly lit up, as if a light bulb had gone off in his mind. "Oh yeah! Then it's okay, as long as there's no gross touching, like Garrett was talking about." 

Liam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. You probably need a change, don't you? Let me just find everything and I'll get you in a clean diaper and -" 

Stiles tuned out on Liam's babbling. He could tell the younger boy was nervous and it made him feel bad. If he listened, he would point it out, which would only serve to make Liam more nervous. Patting the bed, Stiles tried to locate his pacifier. He couldn't feel it, but he was certain he had gone down for his nap with it, because John had slipped it into his mouth after his bottle. Stiles began to whine softly. He wanted his pacifier. Liam turned back to look at Stiles just in time for the waterworks to start. 

"What's wrong, Stiles? Please don't cry, please, please, please. Do you want something to play with? Come on, man, help me out here." Liam pleaded, feeling useless. 

"I w-want my p-p-pacifier and it's g-gone." Stiles sobbed. 

"We'll find it! I bet it just fell on the floor or something. Give me a second." 

Liam dropped to the floor, scouring the area for the missing pacifier. How hard could it be to find a bright green piece of plastic? He searched everywhere, praying to God that he wouldn't have to look under the bed. He wouldn't want anything in his mouth that had been under someone's bed. Sighing, he peaked under the bed, finding the pacifier resting there. He grabbed it, cleaned it off with a baby wipe, and presented it to his charge with a smile. 

"All good now?" Liam asked. 

Stiles nodded, shoving the soother in his mouth. Liam internally sobbed with relief. His first major babysitting crisis had been adverted. Nothing bad had happened, no one was hurt - everything was going fine. With his newly restored confidence keeping him positive, Liam grabbed the supplies and got Stiles settled in for diaper change. 

****

"So, you've got it bad for our little pup, do you?" Peter teased, leaning over the kitchen counter.

Derek groaned. This conversation had become commonplace in the apartment. Peter just loved to poke and goad him about Stiles and how he felt about the teen. It was like being sixteen all over again. Fixing his glare on Peter, Derek grabbed an apple and bit into it, hoping Peter would leave him alone. The older man had no such intentions. He wasn't leaving until he got an answer out of his sour faced nephew. 

"Come on, talk to Uncle Peter. You think Stiles is just _so_ dreamy, don't you?" Peter mocked. 

"Peter, shut up." Derek hissed. 

"I'm only trying to get to know my darling nephew better." 

"Suck a fuck." 

Peter clicked his tongue. "Do you kiss the pup with that mouth?" 

"I don't kiss Stiles at all!" 

Peter chuckled. He had forgotten how much fun it was to work Derek up. The younger wolf had a vein on his neck the throbbed when he was upset and his nostrils flared with every intake and exhale of breath. His heart beat so quickly that it remind Peter of the bass line of club music. It was exhilarating to watch, to know he could do so much damage with a few words. 

"Alright. If you want to keep your precious secret, I guess I won't tell you what I know. You can wallow in your your own lonely tears." Peter said, turning to walk away. 

"It wouldn't matter if I liked him. Pups aren't capable of relationships that are romantic. They are too young." Derek said softly. 

"Oh, my poor, ignorant Derek. He's still eighteen. He can still access his adult mind. He might still call you Papa, but you can get it in with him." 

Derek grimaced. "I don't want to only have sex with him. I love him, Peter. He may be annoying and insensitive at times, but that's what I love. He has no shame." 

"Well, you have fun with the messy strings you would like to attach. All I am saying is that you have a chance. Now, quit your sulking and drive me to the mall." 

Derek raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?" 

"Lydia asked me to meet her there." 

Derek sighed but grabbed his keys. He couldn't believe he had willingly given Peter something to hold over his head. Peter was already out the door, smirking at Derek. 

"I'm waiting, lover boy." Peter teased. 

Derek growled, slamming the door behind him. 

****

Liam stood at the stove, stirring a pan of Spaghetti-Os while Stiles played on the floor with some toy cars. The night had been going great so far - they had played and watched cartoons, diaper changes had been easy and quick, and Stiles had been especially happy and agreeable. Anything Liam suggested, Stiles did. It had made for an easy few hours. 

So naturally, Liam assumed dinner would go off without a hitch. Stiles would eat his Spaghetti-Os, maybe get a little messy, Liam would clean him up before giving him a bath and getting him ready for bed, then it would be bottle and bed. It was so simple; nothing could possibly go wrong. The Spaghetti-Os began to boil, prompting Liam to move the pan over and turn the burner off. While they cooled, Liam decided to get Stiles ready to eat. 

"Dinner's ready, Stiles. Let's put your toys away." Liam said. 

"Just a few more minutes? Please?" Stiles pleaded. 

"Nope, sorry, buddy. Time to clean up." 

Stiles didn't look very happy about it, but he picked up his toys and took them to the box, carefully putting them back in order. Liam spooned some of the Spaghetti-Os into a bowl, setting it to the side as he grabbed a handful of paper towels. He had a feeling he would need them. Stiles came back into the kitchen and sat in a chair, whining as he tried to steady himself. Why was balancing so hard? Did he have an inner ear problem? Liam tucked a paper towel into Stiles' collar before setting the bowl in front of Stiles. 

"All yours, Stiles." Liam said. 

Stiles bounced excitedly in his seat. He loved Spaghetti-Os. He dipped the spoon into the noodles and sauce and immediately shoved it in his mouth, his face turning red. It was way too hot! Spitting it out, Stiles cried out in pain, grabbing for his bottle, which wasn't there. Liam rushed over and handed Stiles a bottle of water, which Stiles took and began to drink. Once Stiles had calmed down, Liam went back to what he was doing. As he turned, his hand caught the bowl of food and knocked it right into Stiles' lap, making the pup yelp in surprise before whimpering. Liam wanted to cry himself. He had jinxed dinner by being cocky and now Stiles had a lap full of searing hot tomato sauce and noodles and a burned tongue. Liam pulled Stiles to his feet and started unbuttoning the brunette's pants, shoving them to his ankles. The skin of Stiles' thighs were bright pink. Liam was a failure. 

"Okay, okay, this isn't so bad. Minor burns. We'll run it under some cool water." Liam mumbled to himself 

"It hurts, Liam. I hate it." Stiles cried. 

"I know, Stiles. I'm sorry." 

"Fix it." 

"I will! Give me a second." 

Liam carried Stiles to the sink and set him on the counter before wetting a dish towel and pressing it to the burns. He sighed. 

The pack was never going to let him babysit again. 

****

John came through the door at six the next morning. He had spent all night patrolling and worrying about Stiles and Liam. It wasn't that John didn't trust Liam - he did - it was that Liam was inexperienced. Liam probably didn't know how to warm a bottle properly or how to be firm when Stiles was being a bit bratty. John was worried that Stiles would try to manipulate Liam, to be honest. His son loved to test the limits. 

Quietly walking to his room, John stopped to check on Stiles. He peeked into the teen's room. Stiles was sleeping with his head resting on Liam's chest, pacifier bobbing in his mouth. It brought a smile to John's face to see his son so comfortable, so close to someone else besides himself and Derek and Scott. Leaving the door open a crack, John tiptoed to his own room to hopefully fit in a few hours of sleep. He might as well take advantage of having Liam here and Stiles actually sleeping in. John flopped onto his bed with a sigh. Pajamas weren't important at this point. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off, remembering to keep Liam on speed dial.


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles, for one, had never been more excited to go to the library. Kira had said the public library had a lot more books than the school library and Scott told Stiles that he could look around while he and Kira worked on their project for history. The promise of books alone was enough to get Stiles on board, but being told he'd be able to wander by himself? That was the cherry on top. Scott and Kira each held one of Stiles' hands as they walked into the building. 

"We'll be in the reference section at one of the tables, okay? Come get us if you need anything." Scott said, discreetly using his Alpha eyes on the pup. 

Stiles bit his lip, suddenly aware of the fact that he really was going to be allowed to explore by himself. It had sounded awesome at first, but now he was worried. What if he wet himself and it leaked through his diaper? What if he started crying because he couldn't find Scott and Kira and everyone made fun of him? Scott put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. 

"Hey, Stiles, it's alright. If it's too much, you can stay with us. I think Kira has some paper so you can color." Scott comforted. 

"Yeah. I even have some glitter pens you can use. I know you like those." Kira said. 

Stiles shook his head. Kira and Scott were acting like he was too little to do anything by himself! He could last one hour on his own. He wasn't even really a baby, for Christ's sake. He was seventeen years old. He could read the erotica novels and the manga that put naked people on display. Not that he would read it, because gross, but he could, and that was the push he needed to wave goodbye to his friends and walk off into the great maze that was the library. 

"That was weird." Scott said. 

"He was probably just having a few doubts about being on his own. He hasn't been away from the pack since he became the pup." Kira said. 

"Well, being around us all the time hasn't helped him regress. Maybe Deaton was wrong and Stiles is a special case or something." 

"Well, the only way to test a hypothesis is to conduct an experiment, which is technically what you're doing now. So, let's go start on our project." 

Scott nodded, shooting one more glace at Stiles' retreating form. He really hoped he and Kira were doing the right thing. 

Stiles weaved in and out of rows of bookshelves, looking for something that looked even a little interesting. Every once and a while, he would stop and pick up a book that piqued his interest, but he ended up putting it back. They ended up falling flat: no action, romance, or anything else. Finally, he reached the other side of the library and spotted a curiously colorful room that was also filled with books, but lacking the tall, intimidating shelves in favor of short, painted ones. Stiles looked around. No one was watching him; they were all caught up in their own studies. He inched closer to the room, still scanning the room to be sure no one was watching him. Once he was certain that he would go unnoticed, Stiles ducked into the room. 

It was amazing. The walls had murals on them, all of trees and flowers and other happy things. The floor was clothed in bright, colorful rugs and there was a small stage up front surrounded by chairs, presumably for storytelling times. Stiles' eyes were wide with excitement as he began scanning the rows of books. Picking out one, he sat on the floor, legs spread, and began to read. 

****

"Aw, look. Wittle Spazlinski is trying to read." Garrett taunted. 

Stiles looked up, scrambling to hide the picture book in his lap. How could he have been so stupid? He was too old to be in the children's section, let alone reading anything in it. Of course he was going to get mocked. He was practically asking for it. Garrett snatched the book from Stiles' hands, leaving the brunette whimpering. The blonde began turning through it as he and his friends laughed. 

" _Fancy Nancy?_ God, are you a fag, too, Spazlinski?" Garrett sneered. 

"Nah, bro, he's obviously a girl. I mean, look at the way his legs are spread." Carlos laughed. 

Stiles pulled his knees to his chest. He had better balance when he sat with his legs spread in a V. Did that really make him a girl? Stiles looked down at his crotch. He was pretty sure that girls didn't have a bulge there like he did. 

"You have to look that hard for your dick, spaz?" Carlos asked. 

" _She_ doesn't have one. I'm sure she's her Daddy's pretty little princess. Aren't you?" Garrett mocked. 

"I'm not a girl! Boys can read it, too!" Stiles argued, but it fell flat. He couldn't even convince himself that he was right. 

"Yeah, I'm sure boys just love reading this kind of shit. _Gay_ boys. That's what you are, right? A little fag who likes to take it up the ass from little freshman twinks like Dunbar." Garrett snapped. 

"Don't pick on Liam!" Stiles fumed. 

"Uh-oh, I guess little Miss Spaz over here doesn't like us talking about her boyfriend." Carlos cooed. 

Stiles began to tear up. "Leave me alone! Why don't you go read some books? Maybe then you'll actually be of some worth to society!" 

Garrett pulled Stiles up and slammed him into the wall, smiling as Stiles' head connected to the brick with a crack. Stiles began to cry then. He was in pain physically and emotionally and all he wanted to do was go home and spend time with Derek. He hated the library. 

"We're worthless to society, huh? That's hilarious coming from the guy who's a burden to everyone. You can't use a bathroom, you cry like this twenty times a fucking day, you need to be constantly babysat by everyone. You think your "friends" really like you? They hate you for ruining their lives because you're too much of a little bitch to just get over yourself," Garrett spat, "Carlos hold him." 

Carlos took Garrett's spot over Stiles, who was squirming in an attempt to escape the boy's grasp. Garrett chuckled as Stiles let out a small sob. The brunette looked absolutely pathetic like this. It was like crack to Garrett. 

"You know, I don't think I like that I've had to share a locker room with a girl the last two months. I mean, you're not even hot, not like that Kira chick. I think lying is worthy of a punishment. Carlos, do it." Garrett said. 

Carlos formed his hand into a fist and slammed it into Stiles' stomach, making the smaller teen groan in pain. 

"And you know what else? I don't think babies who can barely walk should be on my team, either. You should just shit your pants on the sidelines. You're even the coach's charity case, for fuck's sake. You get two for that one." Garrett said. 

Stiles received two more punches to the gut. His legs began to wobble and his stomach churned as if he were going to vomit. 

"Is there anything I'm forgetting, Carlos?" Garrett asked. 

"His fucking thumb sucking, man. That shit is annoying. And the fact that he colors during lunch like a fucking toddler." Carlos growled. 

"Three." 

Three more punches left Stiles gasping for breath. Carlos let go of Stiles' wrists and the pup crumpled to the floor, curling into a ball with his arms wrapped protectively around his tender stomach. He could hear his tormentors laughing above him. 

"See you around, Miss Spazlinski. Don't worry - I'm sure Scott will come find his little damsel in distress." Garrett snickered. 

With that, Garrett and Carlos walked off, still singing their own praises. They headed towards the front exit, passing Scott and Kira on their way. Scott looked up, softly growling. He could smell Stiles on the two bullies. Getting up, Scott walked over to the duo, his teeth bared. 

"Where is he? If you laid so much as a finger on him, I'll tell his father. He'll bring you up on assault charges." Scott said. 

Garrett scoffed. "Maybe if your little friend wasn't such a freak, he wouldn't be so much fun to mess with." 

"Where is he, Garrett? What did you do? Tell me now!" 

"You know what? He cried. Like a little bitch, just like he always does. The kid can't even take a fucking joke. You find him yourself, big shot. The world would be better off if he just died in here." 

Scott felt himself starting to turn. He dug his claws into his palm to try and control it, but the anger was getting to be too much. He couldn't believe Garrett had the nerve to do something like this. Stiles had never done anything to him and yet he still treated Stiles like a punching bag. 

"Fuck you." Scott growled, turning around to go find Stiles. 

"Not in your dreams, McCall." Garrett said. 

Kira stood to follow Scott, fiddling with her belt. They searched for Stiles throughout the entire library before coming to the children's section. Scott would have never suspected that Stiles would be interested in reading picture books, but he supposed it was a pup thing. He walked the isles with Kira, looking for any sign of the other teen. 

At the west wall of the room, they found Stiles. The pup was curled up in a ball, whimpering and crying like a wounded animal. Scott immediately knelt beside him, taking his hand. 

"Stiles, it's Scotty. Look at me. Tell me what happened. Come on, Stiles, talk to Scotty." Scott cooed, running one hand through Stiles' hair. 

Kira sat beside Scott. "Maybe you're using the wrong name. He calls you Daddy, right? Maybe Daddy would feel safer." She suggested. 

"Stiles, Daddy is right here. You're okay. Garrett's gone. It's just us and Kira." 

Stiles peeked up at Scott, who smiled gently. The Alpha wolf looked so inviting; Stiles just wanted to open up to him so he could make everything better. Maybe then they could take him home and maybe he and Kira could play while Scott and Derek talked and then he could have his bath and bottle before he went to bed. That sounded nice. Suddenly, Stiles stiffened. What was he thinking? He shouldn't want any of that! He didn't want to be a freak - he wanted to be a normal teenage boy and go to parties and have friends on the lacrosse team and not have to worry about who was going to give him his nighttime bottle or change his diaper during school. And he absolutely, without a doubt, did not want to play with Kira. He wasn't a girl. Slowly, Stiles got to his feet. Scott smiled. 

"Hey, there he is. Let's go home, okay? We can talk about this there." Scott said. 

Kira began gathering the books on the floor. "I'll meet you guys outside in a minute. I'm going to check these out so you can have them for the week." She said. 

"Alright. Thanks, Kira." 

Scott tried to grab Stiles' hand, but the other boy pulled away, bringing the hand to his chest. He wasn't going to hold hands with Scott. That was gay. Plus, he wasn't a baby - he didn't need help crossing the street. Scott frowned, putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder. It was shaken off, leaving Scott confused. 

"Stiles, what did Garrett do? He hit you, didn't he? I'm so sorry, Stiles. I should have been there with you." Scott apologized. 

"Why? So he could have had more ammunition? He was going to beat me up anyway. I don't need a knight in shining armor, Scotty - Scott. I'm not some damsel in distress!" Stiles snapped. 

"Of course you're not, that's not what I was saying. I just know Garrett gives you a hard time and I don't want you to get hurt. You don't deserve it. The things he tells you and does to you. You don't deserve that." 

"Maybe I do! I'm a freak, Scott! He's just doing what Darwinism predicts. He's getting rid of the weak. Look at me! I'm seventeen and I can't use a bathroom. I like sucking on pacifiers and coloring and cuddling. That's not _normal,_ Scott. It's embarrassing. For you, for me, for everyone involved." 

"None of that is your fault, Stiles. I know you're upset right now and I swear to you, I'm going to take this to your father and the principal. He won't bother you anymore." 

"You don't get it! I don't need you or anyone else to fight my battles! Just take me home, Scott!" 

Scott nodded, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He took Stiles to the car and they sat in silence, waiting for Kira. 

****

Derek came down the stairs with a bottle in his hand, looking exhausted. Stiles had put up quite the fight tonight over bedtime - he didn't want his bath, his bottle, his goodnight kisses. He wanted nothing to do with Derek, Peter, Scott, or Kira. There was no happy chatter about school or the library - which Stiles had been so excited about - and Stiles didn't even touch his dinner of chicken nuggets and curly fries. Derek was at a loss. His pup had been so happy this morning. 

"Did he even drink any of it?" Peter asked. 

"What do you think? I tried to give it to him and he yelled at me. I don't know what his problem is." Derek said. 

Scott and Kira shared a look. Telling Derek would be a death sentence for Garrett; the older man would get John and Jordan on board and of course Peter, who would gladly rip out Garrett's throat. Derek looked at the duo with hard eyes. They knew something. What, he didn't know, but he would be damned if they were going to start keeping secrets now. 

"What do you know?" Derek asked. 

"What? Nothing. Well, we know stuff, but not the stuff you're asking for." Kira babbled. 

"Bullshit. If you know something, you had better start talking. Scott, you're an Alpha. That pup needs you. Do your job as a leader." 

"I'm going to take care of it, Derek. You're too reckless. I'm pissed off, too, but we can't go into this without a level head." Scott said. 

"Go into _what,_ Scott?" 

Scott sighed. "There is a kid at school who has been terrorizing him. We let Stiles go off in the library alone today to look around and this kid started teasing him and he hit him a few times. He's been like this since we found him. He wouldn't even let me touch him, Derek. He's terrified. It was stupid to let him go on his own." 

"Yeah, it really was." 

"I'm going to fix it. I'll tell the Sheriff and the principal. It's not enough to just have us defending Stiles anymore. Stiles said that it makes it worse and he's right. We need to get someone involved that can actually do something." 

Derek sat in a recliner. Scott was definitely right. This kid wasn't going stop just because a few other kids told him to. And Scott was taking the right steps to help Stiles. Derek sighed. He shouldn't be so angry with Scott - it wasn't really his fault. He was trying and Derek had to give him props for that. 

"That's a really good plan, Scott. This wasn't your fault, okay? We can start trying to help Stiles regress again. You're doing the right thing." Derek said. 

Scott smiled. "Thank you, Derek. I really appreciate that. We'll still protect him at school, though. He needs that." He said. 

"I wouldn't expect any less. I'm going to go check on Stiles. He wouldn't take his pacifier. He usually can't sleep without it." 

Derek headed up the stairs. Kira giggled. Derek was secretly just a big fluff ball under his tough exterior.


	16. Chapter 16

"So, when will I get to see Stiles again? I'd like to see how he's doing." Deaton said.

Scott looked up from his clipboard. He was trying to do inventory - he didn't have time for this conversation. He was here to work, not talk about supernatural happenings. Scott sighed. He just didn't want to talk about Stiles right now. He felt guilty about what happened at the library yesterday. Stiles should have been by his side, happily coloring and throwing in his opinion about his and Kira's project, not having the little bit of confidence he had destroyed by an asshole like Garrett. Deaton gave Scott a look, prompting the young werewolf to answer. 

"I don't think he'll be in anytime soon." Scott said. 

"Why not? Is he worried about coming in? I know he was nervous last time." Deaton said. 

"No, he just - he's had a setback. A pretty big one." 

"Pups often do. All it can take is a few hurtful words, especially in Stiles' case, since he is very resistant to the regression." 

Scott shrugged and went back to counting the bags of cat food. He had stopped on bag forty - at least, he thought it was forty. He growled. Now he would have to start over. At this rate, he'd be late for school. Deaton put a hand on Scott's shoulder. 

"What happened, Scott? You seem distracted. I'm sure whatever setback Stiles had wasn't caused by you." Deaton said. 

"I could have stopped it. I have heightened senses; I should have heard what was going on. Stiles is hurting and it's my fault, Deaton." Scott hiccuped, tears filling his eyes. 

Deaton pulled Scott into a hug. He couldn't remember ever seeing the boy cry. Whatever had happened certainly had him upset. He knew it had to be hard for Scott to see Stiles hurting; an Alpha's job was to protect and lead the pack. Scott probably felt like a failure not only as an Alpha, but a friend and a caregiver. It probably didn't help that Scott was most likely feeling physical pain being away from his hurt pup. 

"Scott, you have heightened senses, yes, but you need to concentrate to use them, just as any other wolf. You weren't trying to hear him. It isn't your fault that he was hurt - that falls on whoever hurt him. I will say, though, that you need to be strong for him. I'm pretty sure Stiles knows it wasn't your fault, but he most likely feels very vulnerable right now. He wants you and the pack to be happy, too, Scott. This isn't just about him, in his mind. He's still worried about everyone else." Deaton said. 

"But we've tried to show him that him regressing does make us happy. He's regressed a little. Like, he's comfortable with his pacifier around us and he likes coloring and being held. But nothing else." Scott said. 

"He's trying, Scott. Don't be too hard on him. And don't be too hard on yourself. He can sense that you're upset, but he can't tell what it's over. It makes for a lot of confusion." 

Scott nodded. "Thank you, Deaton. I guess I worked myself up a little too much." 

"You're a good man, Scott. The fact that you were so worried shows how much you care. Now, go on to school. I'll finish this up. And bring Stiles in when you can. I think he needs a check-up." 

"Yes sir. Thanks again." 

Deaton nodded, taking Scott's clipboard as the teen ran off. He heard Scott start the engine of his bike and pull out of the parking lot. Apparently, kids these days couldn't just have normal problems. Though, Deaton had little room to talk. He had been an emissary for the Hale family. 

Talk about some off the wall problems. 

****

As much as Stiles hated to admit it, his old clothes had become uncomfortable. Sure, Lydia had allowed a few hoodies and flannel shirts to slip into his wardrobe, but everything else? Forget about it. Most of his old clothes hadn't been washed in the dumb baby detergent and now he was getting an all over rash. Stiles absently scratched at his forearm. This was ridiculous. 

The worst part, though, was that Stiles was pretty sure the rash was spreading to his nether regions. His skin was crawling and burning and all Stiles wanted to do was scratch himself. However, he was in the middle of AP Physics. That probably wouldn't go over so well in a class full of prim and proper overachievers. Stiles sunk down in his seat. He just had to make it to the end of the day. Then he could change into his lacrosse outfit and everything would be okay. 

Stiles scratched his forearm again. This was torture. On top of his rash, he was starving and tired. He hadn't slept at all last night. He remembered Derek coming in multiple times with bottles and his pacifier - _a pacifier, not your pacifier,_ Stiles reminded himself - and Stiles had rejected him every time. He didn't need Derek or anyone else to baby him. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself. 

"Mr. Stilinski, your presence is requested outside. Please be hasty." Mr. Lorden, the Physics teacher, said. 

Stiles pulled himself to his feet and headed out the door. He barely closed the damn thing before Scott wrapped him in a hug, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and taking a deep breath. Stiles pushed him away. What the hell was Scott doing? People were going to talk! Why couldn't Scott see that he was trying to be normal? 

"What the hell, Scott?" Stiles asked. 

"I needed to smell you, Stiles. I needed to make sure you were okay." Scott explained. 

"Well, you did. Are you happy?" 

Scott frowned as he grabbed Stiles wrist and pulled up his sleeve. Stiles slapped at Scott's hand. He knew Scott would call John if he saw the rash. Then John would come down here and get upset because he not only had a rash, but he didn't have a diaper on. He had ditched that thing as soon as he had gotten to school. Despite Stiles' protests, Scott pulled up the sleeve and inhaled sharply. The rash creeping up Stiles' arm looked ugly, a deep red in color and bumpy in texture. It looked painful. 

"Stiles, this looks bad. We should get you to the nurse." Scott said. 

"No! I'm fine, okay? It just happens sometimes. Just go back to class." Stiles said. 

"No, Stiles. You need to have that looked at. Either the nurse does it or I do." 

Stiles looked at Scott, his eyes flashing purple for a moment. He wanted Scott to hug him so badly. He wanted Liam and Malia to play with him and for Derek to give him a bottle because he was hungry. He wanted everything to be okay again. Scott smiled as he began to wrap his arms around Stiles again. Stiles shook his head, pushing Scott away. It didn't matter what he wanted. He was a burden, and he was going to change that. 

"Just leave me alone, Scott." Stiles said, walking back into the classroom. 

****

"You think this is funny, you asshole?" Jackson snarled, slamming his hands against Garrett's desk. 

Garrett looked up, grinning at Jackson. "I think a lot of things are funny. You'll have to be more specific." He said. 

Jackson took off his backpack and began to rummage around in it, pulling out a sheet of paper. He shoved it at Garrett with a snarl. Garrett laughed as he looked over the sheet. It was definitely funny, alright. Stiles curled up in a ball, surrounded by his girly picture books. Someone had even photoshopped a dress on the little freak. He handed the picture back to Jackson. 

"Sure, it's hilarious. What makes you think I did it?" Garrett asked. 

"The fact that Lydia Martin told me you've done this shit before, but on a larger scale." Jackson hissed. 

"Beauty queen Lydia Martin? She's an idiot. If you asked her how to spell her name, she'd give you a blowjob to get out of it." 

"Shut up, you fucking douchebag! Look, just back off of Stiles, okay? He's got enough problems without you spreading his personal business around the school." 

"Aw, how sweet. You're protecting the sideshow attraction. Is he letting you fuck him on weekends? Because, dude, he should be paying you to stick your dick in that." 

Jackson grabbed Garrett's collar and pulled him out of his chair. He couldn't believe how cocky this kid was. Jackson was twice his size and he was still running his mouth. Slamming him into the wall, Jackson got into his face. 

"I heard this is what you did to Stiles. Your little lackey has been telling everyone about how you really gave Stiles a beating. Maybe I should punch you, too, huh? You like picking on other people so much - maybe you should get a taste of what it's like." Jackson said. 

"Dude, all we did was tell him some harsh truths. It's not my fault that he's too much of a pussy to handle it. You haven't been here very long, you missed him pissing himself in front of his class and needing his dad to come pick him up after he shit himself. He's not normal - he's a freak. And I'm doing my job as a concerned citizen by giving him some constructive criticism." Garrett spat back. 

"That's some fucked up, Hitler-esque shit, man. Just leave Stiles alone and maybe I won't kick your ass." 

Jackson took his hands off of Garrett and backed away. The blonde smirked at him, straightening out his shirt. Giving Jackson's pectoral a pat, Garrett began to walk away. 

"Trust me. You could never kick my ass, you fucking wannabe pretty boy." He said. 

Jackson resisted the urge to run after Garrett and snap his neck. That wouldn't help the situation. Would it? 

****

Danny panted as he ran, sweat dripping down his face. He could believe Coach Finstock was making the team run laps just because someone had left a towel in the showers. Honestly, it was a tad over dramatic for Danny's tastes, especially the bit where Finstock said he didn't want to get Ebola from one of them. Danny loved the guy, but Jesus Christ, Finstock was the biggest idiot sometimes. 

A yelp pulled Danny from his thoughts. Stiles fell, hitting the ground with a thud as Garrett and Carlos laughed. Danny groaned. That blonde Satan incarnate thought he was so big and bad. Danny stopped to help Stiles up as Coach Finstock blew his whistle. Garrett scoffed. 

"Come on, Miss Spaz, don't be such a fucking fag queen. Get up." Garrett taunted. 

Danny's eyes widened. He hadn't heard that word since middle school. He helped Stiles up, pretending not to notice the wet stain on his pants, and allowed the coach to take him to the locker room before turning to Garrett. He cracked his knuckles, vaguely thinking about how very cliche it was. If he was going to beat the crap out of Garrett, though, he would do it right. Dramatics and all. 

"What the hell did you just say?" Danny asked, stepping up to Garrett. 

"Back off, Mahealani. I wasn't talk about you." Garrett said. 

"You shouldn't use that word to talk about anyone, ever, you fucking prick." 

"Oh, I see. What are you going to do? Call the GSA on me? Last time I checked, I have the freedom to say whatever I fucking want. And your little charity case is a _faggot_." 

Danny growled, lunging at Garrett. He tackled the blonde to the ground, his fist connecting with Garrett's chin. The rest of the team pulled out their cell phones, egging the fight on as Scott and Liam jumped in to break it up. Kira ran to get Coach Finstock as Carlos stepped in and grabbed Liam, throwing him to the ground. A foot caught Scott in the leg, tripping him. Garrett rolled over and ended up on top of Danny, smiling deviously. 

"This is kind of a fantasy for you, right? Being in a big pile of dudes?" Garrett mocked. 

Danny pushed the other boy off, getting to his feet. Scott was locked in combat with Carlos while Liam went after Garrett. A shrill whistle was heard, but it did little to stop the fight, minus making Scott and Liam wince. Coach Finstock pushed through the crowd of onlookers to try to break up the fight, but he narrowly missed a fist to the jaw. Stepping back, he used his radio to call for an administrator. Stiles and Kira watched with wide eyes. Suddenly, Kira jumped in, swiftly kicking one of Garrett's partners in crime in the chest. Stiles felt useless. He had caused this fight and now he wasn't doing anything about it. Even Jackson was doing something, holding one guy's arms down as Danny punched him. 

Then Scott was hit, and Stiles saw purple. No one was going to hurt his Alpha, his best friend, his _Daddy_ , and get away with it. His anger had just been swelling up since he had seen Danny stick up for him from the locker room. He leaped in, tackling Garrett and pinning him with as much strength as he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn't much, but he was trying. Garrett laughed and simply kicked Stiles off of him before pinning him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me, you worthless waste of space? You thought you could take me? Mahealani can't even take me and he's twice your size. It was kind of endearing, though, watching your little group fight for your honor or whatever the fuck they thought they were doing. You're a fucking disgrace, Stilinski. A faggy, useless, dead weight disgrace." Garrett spat, punching Stiles hard in the nose. 

Garrett wasn't ready to stop just yet. He sent two more hits to Stiles' face, then a few to his stomach. Without warning, Garrett felt himself be lifted into the air. 

"Hey, Garrett. I told you I'd kick your ass." Jackson said gleefully. 

"I'd love to see you try. Why don't you take that helmet off so everyone can see your face when I fucking break it?" Garrett asked. 

Jackson looked around. Most of the fighting had stopped; Scott and Liam were now by Stiles' side, trying to make sure Stiles was alright. After all, the pup wasn't actually a werewolf - the beating he took would be tough to shake off. Danny was trying to pull Kira away from her target. Jackson supposed now was as good a time as any to reveal himself. Pulling off his helmet, Jackson threw it to the side. 

"Holy shit, you're Jackson Whittemore." Garrett squeaked. 

"Yeah, so?" Jackson asked, balling up his fists. 

"Dude, you're a legend! We all know who you are. A great lacrosse player, a total ladies' man, a fucking badass - you're the all around cool guy." 

"Always glad to beat the crap out of a fan." 

Jackson pulled back for a punch. He could taste how badly he wanted to just destroy Garrett. They guy was the world's biggest asshole and if Jackson had been even a fraction as mean to Stiles as Garrett had been, he was going to need a lot more stuffed animals. Like, a truckload. And he was going to have to beg on his knees and maybe let Stiles kick him in the crotch a few times. The pup had probably wanted to do that for years. Before Jackson could break Garrett's nose, a hand caught his arm. When he looked up, he saw Mrs. Danvers, the vice principal. She looked none too happy with him. Or anyone else, for that matter. 

"All of you, come with me." Mrs. Danvers gritted out.


	17. Chapter 17

Mrs. Danvers sat at the head of a round table in the conference room, surrounded by the partakers of the scuffle and their parents. None of the students looked even remotely guilty or regretful; they were all glaring at each other as if this was _West Side Story_ and they all came from different sides of the track. Mrs. Danvers sighed at that thought. Good Lord, she hoped this wasn't actually over a girl. Then she would have seen it all. Her Master's in administration never prepared her for this nonsense.

"I'm sure you are aware of why I've called you here." Mrs. Danvers stated. 

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "Not really. A 'scuffle on the lacrosse field' doesn't really sound like it warrants a trip up here, but looking at the way Stiles' face is swollen up, I'm guessing it was more of a fight than a scuffle." She said. 

"I have to agree with Ms. McCall. My son kind of looks like he took the brunt of it all. Why is he here?" John asked. 

"Sheriff, your son caused the fight." Mrs. Danvers said. 

"Really? You think Stiles caused the fight? My boy is one hundred and twenty pounds, tops. He's scrappy, I'll give you that, but he would never actually throw a punch unless he needed to." 

"And under what circumstances, Sheriff, would he _need_ to resort to violence?" 

"Self-defense. I'll bet money that one of those two," John pointed to Garrett and Carlos, "Started it. Carlos has a record and Garrett - well, he's been terrorizing Stiles since the year started." 

"Boys, is this true?" 

"Come on, Mrs. D. He's just so weird! He makes me uncomfortable." Garrett said. 

"Yeah, Mrs. D. He's always doing weird stuff and acting like a baby." Carlos added. 

Mrs. Danvers turned to Stiles, who had fallen asleep on John's shoulder. She had to admit that the teen _did_ look a little too scrawny to start a fight, but she had seen some of the behavior Garrett and Carlos were speaking over. Stiles was a strange kid and if he was too different, he was naturally going to be targeted. Surely John would understand that? 

"And what about you all? McCall, Whittemore, Dunbar? Or you, Yukimura and Mahealani? You must have seen what happened." Mrs. Danvers asked. 

"Yeah, I did. That homophobic piece of trash over there and his buddies tripped Stiles and called him a fag when he wouldn't get up. Stiles didn't start that fight. I did. I got in Garrett's face and called him out and I tackled him." Danny said. 

"May we go now, then? Daniel was simply doing what was right. While I don't agree with Danny's methods, Garrett shouldn't have been teasing the Stilinski boy. That child has enough on his plate." Mrs. Mahealani said. 

John sent up a silent prayer for Mrs. Mahealani. That woman truly was a saint. Mrs. Mahealani winked at John discreetly. She had the Sheriff's back. There was no way Stiles - or anyone who had been defending him, for that matter - should take all the blame for this. If Garrett hadn't been being a bully, none of this would have happened. Garrett's father suddenly stood. 

"Look, my son isn't taking the blame for this. He was just expressing his opinion. You liberal idiots think that everyone is special and there we all need peace and love and rainbows and gay pride, whoop-de-doo. It's all crap. If your son is being a freak, Sheriff, he should be put in his place. This is just preparing him for the rest of his life." Garrett's father ranted. 

"Oh, give me a break, David! Stop spouting off your political agenda and make your son take some responsibility! It'll prepare him for _life,_ after all." Melissa spat. 

"Ugh, why aren't McCall and Dunbar getting any heat? They were part of it, too. And Dunbar hits like a bitch." Garrett said. 

"You take that back! You started this mess, Garrett! I was just finishing it, asshole!" Liam growled. 

"Come and get me, Dunbar! Let's see your limp ass wrist hit me!" 

"That is enough! Everyone, sit down and be quiet!" Mrs. Danvers thundered. 

Everyone returned to their seats, still fuming. Mrs. Danvers could see that she was getting absolutely nowhere. Everyone was on the defense of not only their child, but whoever had been on their child's side in the altercation. She, however, wasn't going down without a fight. Danny may have admitted that he started the physical aspect of the showdown, but it still sound as if Stiles was the core cause of it. 

"Mr. Whittemore, you have only been here a few weeks. What on Earth possessed you to jump into a fight?" Mrs. Danvers asked. 

"They were making fun of Stiles. They hit Danny and Scott and Liam and Kira. They didn't deserve to just get away with it. They were beating everyone up and I wasn't going to be the guy who just sits around anymore. These are my friends." Jackson said, not meeting anyone's gaze. 

Mrs. Danvers nodded. "Ms. Yukimura?" 

"I don't believe that anyone should take abuse without being able to do anything about it. Garrett and Carlos also beat Stiles up yesterday. This is revenge." Kira said. 

"He was reading girls' picture books. If you act like a gayby, you're going to get treated like a gayby." Garrett said. 

"God, you are such a fucking idiot." Liam groaned. 

"Gayby means newly out gay man." Danny hissed. 

"Oh, are you two on the same wavelength or something? Or does fucking Stilinski allow you to speak telepathically? Ooo, what's McCall thinking? And Whittemore?" Garrett asked. 

Garrett turned to Scott, who had been curiously quiet throughout the discussion. Scott eyes were tightly shut and his breath was labored. Melissa had an arm around him, whispering to him. Garrett snorted. Maybe Stilinski wasn't the only one who needed his parent to fight his battles for him. Speaking of Stiles, he was still passed out on John, mouth suckling something invisible. If he were honest with himself, he would let himself give in to his great dream of John feeding him a bottle. But, he loved to lie to himself, so he was busy trying to somehow change it. Basically, the conversation overhead meant nothing to him. Mrs. Danvers clapped her hands to gather the group's attention again. 

"I have reached a conclusion. Sheriff, I'm afraid Stiles did start this fight. He may not have thrown the first punch, the the altercation was born out of a dislike of how odd he is," Mrs. Danvers said, "As for the rest of you, this is your first offense. I suggest you all keep your hands to yourselves unless you want to end up suspended." 

Everyone got up to leave. Liam began trying pick up Stiles and keep him asleep at the same time. The pup looked like he could use all the sleep he could get. John, however, refused to leave. This was bullshit, plain and simple. 

"You're telling me that Stiles was the cause of this fight - that he was asking for this - because he's a little different than the other kids?" John asked angrily. 

Mrs. Danvers nodded. "I'm sorry, Sheriff, but you have to admit that Stiles doesn't even try to fit in with his peers. He's very hyperactive and verbose." 

"He has ADHD! He's on Adderall, for Christ's sake! He can't fix that." 

"And what about his oral fixation? He always has something in his mouth. That is very odd. As well as the fact that he isn't toilet trained. How did you even enroll him in preschool?" 

"He's incontinent because of an accident and he likes the comfort of having something to suck on. Every kid is different, Mrs. Danvers. Why are you picking on my son?" 

"I'm not. I simply think if he would try a little harder to blend in, he wouldn't have a problem. I don't have the time to play body guard to a student who won't even try." 

"Fine. You won't have to. My son isn't going to stay at a school where the staff and the students are bullies. I'll be in to sign his papers tomorrow." 

"Sheriff, please take a minute to calm down and think-" 

"I've had plenty of time to think this over. I've been thinking it over since the first time Stiles came home in tears because of those kids. I should have done something then, but I thought maybe you or the principal would have done something to ensure that Stiles wasn't being harassed. Every student here deserves to feel safe. You're taking that away from my kid. So, no, I won't calm down and think about it. I'll be in tomorrow to take Stiles out." 

"If you believe that is best, Sheriff. I believe you are taking Stiles away from his friends and an opportunity to socialize with people his own age." 

"I didn't ask what you believed. I know he can still play lacrosse here if he's home schooled - you have a program for it. And he can still see his friends as much as he wants in an environment that doesn't include power tripping jerks like Garrett. I have to go. Stiles needs to get home." 

John carefully took Stiles from Liam, grimacing at how light the teen felt. God, when had Stiles lost all this weight? John could feel his ribs through his shirt. He knew the kid ate - the whole pack was constantly bombarding him with snacks and bottles of Ensure - and he knew sometimes the Adderall did weird things to Stiles' metabolism and eating patterns, but he still should have had more meat on his bones. Giving Liam a nod, John headed out the door. He needed to get his boy home. 

****

Jackson had never felt so uncomfortable in his entire life. Everyone was staring him down. Scott, of course, looked kind of pissed. Danny seemed a little happy, and Liam confused. Kira and Malia looked a bit angry, too. Jackson couldn't blame them. He was 'gay cousin Kyle from London,' after all. They probably thought he was a lying bastard. Malia even had her teeth bared slightly, soft growls escaping her lips. She had never stopped being suspicious of him - she knew he smelled strange. Now there was proof that Jackson wasn't who he said he was. 

Scott cleared his throat. He had to be the first to speak. Besides Danny and Lydia, he was the only one who remembered Jackson and what he had done. There was a reason Jackson had gone to England and Scott wasn't so sure he wanted him back in Beacon Hills. He had to think about the safety and well being of his pack and the citizens of the town. He had to think about Stiles and if it was safe for a pup to even be in the same place as someone who had killed so many people as the Kanima. 

"You promised to stay in England, Jackson. You were supposed to start over there and never come back." Scott said. 

"I know, Scott. I'm sorry. I couldn't stay away, though. I felt empty, like I had left everything I cared about behind. I cared about you and Allison and everyone else. You were my pack." Jackson said softly. 

"You killed multiple people as the Kanima. I know you were under someone else's control, but we can't take a risk like that again. I'm the Alpha of this pack, Jackson, and I want to help you, but I have to think about my pack mates," Scott choked up, "And Allison, she - she died last year." 

Kira rubbed Scott's back as Jackson began to speak again. "I understand, but I'm not a Kanima anymore. I am a wolf, Scott. I've changed a lot and I wanted to come back to be part of your pack again. I'm sorry about Allison, Scott." 

"Jackson, we have a pup to think about, too. Stiles hasn't even scratched the surface of being fully regressed and he needs complete and total support. He needs a strong pack, to be surrounded by people who will care for him and help him. I don't know if you can do that." 

Lydia, who had been sitting quietly, raised her hand. She was the one who had encouraged Jackson to come back. The least she could do was play him up a little. Jackson was a good guy and the pack would need time to be able to trust him. That didn't mean she couldn't grease the wheels a little. 

"Scott, Jackson has been staying with me. He's known that Stiles is a pup for a while now. I've watched him read parenting books and learn how to change diapers and soothe crying babies. He wants to take care of Stiles, Scott, just like the rest of us. I think we should give him a chance." Lydia said. 

Scott sighed. "It's not that simple, Lydia. He hasn't been with the pack long enough. We don't know how everyone will work together. However, I'd be willing to try it. Look, Jackson, I never hated you. You never egged my house like you did Stiles' or called my dad useless. I thought you were a jerk, but I didn't hate you." 

"So, I'm in? I can be part of the pack?" Jackson asked, smiling. 

"You have a lot of trust to earn on every end, but yes. You're in. You're going to have to face Derek sometime, though, so I would prepare for that." 

"Thank you, Scott - Alpha? Alpha Scott. Thank you, Alpha Scott." 

Scott grimaced. That sounded god awful. He didn't want to be called Alpha. It was just strange. "Just stick to Scott, please? I don't like being referred to as Alpha. It makes me sound like some kind of tyrant." 

"Okay. Sorry, Scott. They're a little more formal across the pond. I got the shit kicked out of me for not addressing people the right way." 

"Don't worry about it." 

Scott and Jackson shook hands. Scott supposed it wouldn't be too bad to expand his pack. The only thing he was worried about was what Derek would say. 

****

"Alright, kiddo. Let's get you in some jammies, huh? Do you want to be in your jammies?" John cooed to Stiles, who was still very much asleep. 

John smiled softly as he gave Stiles his pacifier. The brunette's mouth had been going nonstop since he had fallen asleep earlier. Maybe that meant Stiles would take a bottle in his sleep, too. John walked over to the chest of drawers and began searching for a pair of pajamas. Deciding on a Batman themed set, John set them on the bed before grabbing the things he needed to change Stiles' diaper. The poor kid was bound to be soaked by now. 

John gently slipped the pacifier out of Stiles' mouth so he could take off his shirt, making the teen whimper. Quickening his pace, John put Stiles' pajama top on and gave the pacifier back. Stiles went right back to sucking. 

"You thought Dada took it away, huh? He just had to borrow it for a little bit." John said, slipping Stiles' shorts off. 

Stiles wasn't wearing a diaper. He wasn't even wearing boxers. There was a rash spotting most of his body, making John wince. Not only had Stiles been beaten up today, he had also worn clothes that had given him a rash and gone without any type of protection for accidents. It was nothing a little rash cream couldn't fix, luckily. John carefully cleaned Stiles up with a wipe before applying some cream and powder, taping the diaper around Stiles waist. Stiles didn't even twitch. 

"Alright, kiddo. I'll put your pants on and leave you alone for a while. Dada's here if you need anything, and Derek will be here soon. I have to go back in. They need me." John whispered. 

Stiles snuffled a bit, but otherwise gave no response. John smiled and covered Stiles with the comforter, kissing his forehead. He made sure all the pillows were in place so Stiles couldn't roll out of bed before stepping out of the room and leaving Stiles to sleep. 

Of course, the crying started only a few minutes later, and John was back into Stiles' room in a heartbeat. It was a nightmare, by the looks of it. Thrashing, tossing, and turning about, crying, a few random words tossed here and there - it was the full nine. John began rubbing Stiles' stomach and cooing nonsense at him, hoping his presence alone would be enough to comfort Stiles. The boy needed sleep, and while John didn't want him to be afraid of whatever was in his head, he wanted Stiles to rest. After ten minutes, it was clear that Stiles was going to wake himself up. His dream was scaring him senseless. John gently blew on his son's face in an attempt to wake him up. 

"Stiles, Dada is right here. It's okay, kiddo, it's all a dream. Dada's got you. Shh, baby boy." John said softly. 

Stiles' eyes snapped open and he looked up at John, eyes darting wildly. John smiled softly and brushed the hair out of Stiles' face, earning a hiccup and a shove in response. Startled, John backed away, eyes wide as Stiles crawled out of the bed and ran to a corner, folding in on himself. He looked like some kind of terrified animal, wild and crazy and unpredictable. It honestly had John a bit scared. He had never seen Stiles like this before. Putting a hand out, John took a step towards Stiles. 

"Stiles, it's just me - it's just Dada. No one's going to hurt you. Do you want your paci?" John asked. 

"No! Leave me alone!" Stiles screamed, picking up a shirt and hurling it at John. 

John fought the urge to laugh. This was a serious situation. That, however, didn't make it any less adorable that Stiles thought a shirt was a suitable weapon. John simply folded the shirt and set it on the chest of drawers before taking another step towards Stiles. 

"How about I get you some warm milk, kiddo?" John suggested. 

"If I want it, I can get it myself! I'm not a baby!" Stiles spat. 

"Stiles, calm down." 

"No! No, I won't calm down! I'm tired of this! I don't want to be a burden! Why can't you just let me fix this? I want to be normal!" 

"There's nothing wrong with you, Stiles. There never has been. If those kids told you that, they're wrong. I love you, kiddo." 

Stiles wiped at his face before pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Why couldn't he stop crying? Boys weren't supposed to cry! He probably looked like a big baby. A big, gay, sissy baby. John was only trying to make him feel better because he was his dad and it was his job. If it weren't for that, John would be laughing at him, just like Raphael. Just like everybody else. John inched closer to Stiles and knelt in front of him. 

"Stiles, you're not a burden. You never have been and you never will be." John said. 

Stiles looked up at John with watery eyes. "I'm not just a burden. I'm a freak. And a big, gay, girly baby. I'm a - a -" Stiles choked on his words, "I'm a fucking disgrace." 

"Who told you that? Was it Garrett? Listen to me, that kid is full of it. You're a really big help in ways you don't even understand yet to a lot of people, especially me and the pack. And maybe you are a baby, but that's not a bad thing. I personally love taking care of my baby boy. I've missed it, having you rely on me. Being gay isn't a bad thing, either, Stiles, and I know you know that. You've never thought Danny was a bad person for being gay, or that Mason kid. If you are, you are." 

"That's different, Dad. Danny and Mason aren't freaks. They aren't girls like me." 

"It's not different. And what do you mean "girls like me?" I'm fairly certain you're a boy. I know we had that talk. Why would you say something like that?" 

"Because I am! Boys don't cry like I do or read girl books or hang out with girls all the time! They do boy stuff, like play lacrosse - which I'm really bad at - and play video games and watch action movies without someone covering their eyes because they're afraid of the explosions like little babies." 

"Scott hangs out with Kira a lot. Is he a girl? Liam likes to read Nancy Drew novels. Is he a girl? Jordan gets facials every month. Is he a girl? I haven't ever once seen the movie _Titanic_ without crying. Am I a girl?" 

"Well, no, but it's different." 

"No, it's not. And the girls you hang out with are some of the strongest I've ever met. That Lydia? She's smart as a whip and I'm pretty sure she could kill anybody with that glare she has when she's displeased. And Kira? She can hold her own. Look at what she did in that fight today. And Malia was a coyote for seven years of her life. If anyone is tough, it's her. I'd take them over a lot of the men on my squad any day of the week." 

"I-I didn't mean that it was bad to be a girl. I just - I just don't want - I want to be a boy. And I don't want to be teased all the time anymore. It's hard, Dad. I don't ever know what to do or if I can do it." 

John motioned for Stiles to come into his arms. Stiles was hesitant at first, but he crawled into John's lap and curled up. He sighed. He knew he shouldn't like it, but this was one of his favorite places to be. Cuddled up with John and safe. John rubbed the brunette's back, kissing his hair. 

"Stiles, you be whoever you want to be. I know you want to regress - I can see it in your eyes - but I know it'll take time for you to be comfortable again. I promise I'll do anything I can to make it easier. I'm so sorry, Stiles. I'm sorry I let it get this bad." John said. 

Stiles gripped John's shirt with his fists. "It's not your fault, Dada. I'm sorry I'm being a lot of trouble." He whispered. 

"You're no trouble at all, Stiles. Are you hungry? I can make you something." 

"I'm just tired right now." 

"Alright, kiddo. Go back to sleep, then. Dada's got you." 

Stiles buried his face in John's chest with a sigh. For the first time in a few weeks, he actually felt a little at peace with himself and being the pup.


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles woke up in a panic. His head was aching - hell, _everything_ was aching - he was alone, and his alarm clock read nine A.M. in bright numbers. That last part really caught his attention. He was late for school. Carefully, Stiles pulled himself out of bed and limped over to the closet, rummaging around for something to wear. If he was quick, he could be at the school in time for second period. Settling on a long sleeved shirt and jeans, Stiles began trying to get dressed. It proved to be rather difficult with a whole body soreness.

Stiles finally got his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. He was never going to make it to school at this rate. He could barely undress himself; there was no way dressing himself was going to be any easier. Disappointed with himself, Stiles tossed the rest of his outfit on the floor. He just wanted to get dressed, damn it! Was that too much to ask for? To be able to put on clothes? After stomping his foot for good measure, Stiles picked up his clothes. His hissy fit was now over and it was time to try to function like a normal member of society again. 

"Hey, kiddo. What's got you up so early?" John asked, leaning on the doorjamb. 

Stiles jumped, spinning around. "Early? It's nine! I'm late for school! Why didn't anyone wake me up? God, Danvers is going to lose it." He griped. 

"No, she's not. You're not going to school today, so I want your skinny little butt to put on a shirt and get back in bed." 

Why am I not going to school today? Did - Did I get suspended? Or expelled?" 

"Stiles -" 

"I did. I got expelled. Oh my God, why isn't anyone freaking out? I have to go apologize to Garrett. I can't just _not_ go to school. We don't have the money for that and oh my God, I won't even finish high school. I'm not going to finish high school. I screwed up everyone's lives and I'm not even going to graduate high school. Why aren't you more upset?" 

John sighed and picked Stiles up, holding the boy to his chest as he kicked and struggled. He knew Stiles was worried, but he wasn't having any of this today. Stiles needed to rest until he had to go to his doctor's appointment in a few hours and as much as John trusted Derek to mother hen the living hell out of the pup, he might as well try to make it a bit easier on Derek. Stiles had stopped fussing in favor of crying, head resting on John's shoulder. John patted his back as he cooed softly. 

"I know, Stiles. Everything hurts and you're just not happy. Dada's going to fix that. But you've got to lay down and rest." John said. 

Stiles whimpered in response. 

"What? You don't want to be in bed?" 

Stiles' nose wrinkled in disgust before he shook his head. 

John sighed. "Fine. How about you lay on the couch and you can watch TV. Sound good?" 

Stiles nodded. Kissing Stiles' hair, John carried the teen downstairs and deposited him on the couch before wrapping the afghan around him. Stiles gave a small smile, opening up his split lip. John sighed. His son really looked like hell - two black eyes, bruising all over his face, a split lip, and all of the bruising and scrapes on the rest of his body? They made John want to puke. Turning on the TV, John flipped it to a cartoon before walking into the kitchen. Derek sat at the table with a cup of coffee, his hands squeezing it so tightly that John was afraid the mug would shatter. The werewolf was growling and cursing under his breath. 

"You doing alright there, Derek?" John asked. 

"I'll kill that fucking kid. I will rip out his throat and light his corpse on fire. I swear to God. Give me his address." Derek snarled. 

"You aren't killing anybody. You don't see Scott running around threatening to kill everyone." 

"Because Scott's _nice._ He still thinks Garrett's got some good hidden in him. Garrett's an asshole and he's getting away with this bullshit!" 

"Derek, he's not getting away with it. You need to calm down." 

"Look at what he did to Stiles! He beat the crap out of him and fucking talked to him like he was dirt! We were doing so well and it's all going to shit because of some entitled, privileged prick!" 

"I have a meeting with a lawyer, Derek! You don't think I'm pissed off, too? You aren't the only one who cares! Newsflash, I've dealt with this for _years._ Stiles has been being bullied since he started school. You don't even know how much I wanted to punch kids at times." 

"He shouldn't get away without some bruises. If he wants to punch people, he should get punched." 

John stepped up to Derek, giving the younger man a glare that could melt steel. "If you're going to act like this, you won't watch Stiles. He needs comfort and understanding. He can feel how angry you are. And you're freaking me out with all of this talk of killing people." 

"Fine. I'll calm down. But I still hate him." 

John clapped Derek on the shoulder. "Good man. Now, I have to get going. Why don't you go sit with Stiles? He's probably lonely." 

Derek took a few deep breaths before turning on his heel and heading towards the living room. He was certain being around Stiles would calm him. 

"Oh, and Derek?" John asked. 

"Yes, Sheriff?" Derek replied. 

"Don't forget about Stiles' appointment at eleven." 

Derek groaned. He had definitely tried to forget about taking Stiles to the doctor. The horror stories were endless; Scott said that Stiles had once bitten a doctor when she tried to clean out a gash on his leg. John had told him that Stiles once locked himself in a supply cabinet to get out of having his blood pressure taken. Stiles was terrified of doctors and given the way he looked, the kid wasn't coming out without a nice, long full body examination and plenty of antiseptic. John gave Derek a smug smile before saying goodbye to Stiles and heading out the door. Maybe it was a little mean to leave Derek to take Stiles, but it was going to make for a rather amusing story. There was no way John was going to miss that kind of opportunity. 

****

Scott gave a small snarl as he saw Garrett giving out high-fives to his friends down the hall. The idiot didn't even regret hitting Stiles or making him feel like garbage. He didn't care that he had given Scott and his pack all sorts of reputations. Scott had found his and Liam's names scrawled on the bathroom stalls. Someone called Kira a whore during first period. Guys were straight up trying to pay Lydia to have sex with them. There was a rumor floating around that Jackson had been in prison in England. Garrett was purposely trying to destroy everybody's lives just because he had lost his favorite toy. 

Nothing had ever made Scott's blood boil the way Garrett did. The blonde only saw Stiles as a plaything, a punching bag. If anyone needed to be hit, it was Garrett. Maybe it would put some sense in his head. Scott watch Garrett walk down the hall towards him, breath coming out in short gasps. 

"Dude, don't let him get to you. Fuck him." Danny said. 

"He's doing this on purpose. He wants to start something. I won't rise." Scott said. 

"Good. Just don't look at him." 

Scott continued to speak to Danny as Garrett walked by. Garrett smirked as he stopped by the duo. 

"Got yourself a new boy toy since Spazlinski left, huh? Better be careful, Mahealani - Scotty here's got a reputation. Anyone can call him for a good time." Garrett said. 

"Don't call me Scotty." Scott snapped. 

"What? Does someone else call you that? I could've sworn that Spazlinski called you Daddy. Would you prefer that? Do you wanna be my Daddy, too? Freak." 

"Hey! Back the fuck off, Garrett!" Liam shouted, coming down the hall. 

Garrett pretended to quake. God, this was thrilling. He had Scott and his little group eating out of his hand. They were going to pay for embarrassing him. Liam glared at Garrett, fighting the urge to punch him again. 

"Oh, are you getting angry? Maybe Scotty needs to give someone a timeout." Garrett mocked. 

"You fucking asshole. I hope you get hit by a bus." Liam hissed. 

"You better control your mutt, McCall. All of them." 

With that, Garrett walked away, smirking. He was getting to them. Everything was going swimmingly. 

****

"No! Derek, I don't want to go. It's just bruises - it's not even bad. I'll stay in bed all day and I'll let you put Neosporin on the scrapes. Anything you want, I'll do it." Stiles begged. 

Derek sighed, the sheer fear in Stiles' eyes tugging at his heart. He didn't want to do this. In fact, he wanted to load Stiles back up and take him back home to settle in for all the episodes of _PAW Patrol_ the teen could stomach. Derek groaned internally; when had he become such a pushover? He had to be hard right now. Stiles needed to see a doctor. Grabbing Stiles' hand, he began dragging the brunette into the hospital. 

Stiles began crying. Honest to God wailing in the parking lot, making people stop and stare. Derek felt his cheeks heat up. Most of the on-lookers fixed Stiles and Derek with sympathetic glances, as if they knew that Stiles was terrified, but some chuckled maliciously and pointed, as if Stiles were some kind of sideshow freak. Quickly, Derek pulled Stiles to his side, leading the boy in with a comforting arm around his shoulders. He wasn't going to allow these people to see Stiles like this. They didn't know the brunette and had no reason to judge him. Walking past the front desk, Derek waved at Melissa, who smiled. 

"Not having a good day?" Melissa asked. 

Derek shook his head. "He doesn't want to see the doctor. I don't think I've ever seen him this afraid before." He said. 

"He doesn't like them. Or hospitals. Or anything to do with medical procedures, really," Melissa came around to stand in front of Stiles, bringing up one hand to cup his cheek, "Hey, sweetie. I know you're scared, but I have something I think will makes you feel lots better. Open up those pretty eyes for me." 

Stiles flashed purple eyes at Melissa, the nurse gasping as she watched them slowly turn back to brown. They were so much softer than Scott's red Alpha irises - Melissa just wanted to take the tears from them. Not that she didn't love Scott's eyes, but Stiles' had a different message to send. Scott's screamed strong and protective, powerful and honorable, while Stiles' said fragile and sweet, playful and innocent. It was far from anything Melissa had expected. 

"Stilinski?" A voice called. 

Melissa blinked, shaking off her trance. "Take these, Stiles." She said, handing him a few stickers. 

"Th-Thank you." Stiles whispered. 

Derek mouthed a 'thank you' as he took Stiles toward the examination room. Another nurse smiled as she closed the door behind them. He turned, looking at his clipboard as Stiles settled himself on the padded table. Derek took a seat next to the table. 

"Well, well, Mr. Stilinski. You certainly got yourself some shiners. I'm Hansen. I'm going to do some standard stuff before Dr. Martinez comes in. Cool?" The nurse, Hansen, asked. 

Stiles didn't respond, opting to look through his stickers. Melissa knew exactly what he liked - there were two superhero stickers, three _PAW Patrol_ ones, and one sticker that looked like a sheriff's badge. Peeling off the badge, Stiles stuck it to his shirt. He needed all the courage he could get, and sheriffs were super brave. Hansen put on a stethoscope and pressed it to Stiles' chest, smiling softly at the badge. He wasn't used to seeing people as old as Stiles using them for inspiration, but it was cute and the kid needed it, given the way he was sniffling. 

"Everything there looks tiptop. What do you want to do next? Mouth or ears?" Hansen asked. 

Stiles curled in on himself. He didn't want to choose. He was sick of choosing. He wanted someone else to do it for him. Hansen turned to Derek. 

"Big brother? Can you help me out?" He asked. 

"I'm not his brother, but yes." Derek replied. 

"Alright! I just need you to hold Stiles' hand for a little bit while I finish up. Keep him happy." 

"Okay." 

"Thank you. Stiles, if you get scared, I want you to give his hand a good squeeze. We'll stop for a little bit. Don't be embarrassed, Stiles. A lot of people don't like doctors." 

Derek gave Hansen a nod of approval as he took Stiles' hand. Stiles watched warily as Hansen got his supplies together. The nurse seemed so nice, but he couldn't be sure. Hansen would probably laugh at him the first time he squeezed Derek's hand. The process started. Mouth ears, eyes, nose - Stiles would grip Derek's hand every two minutes. Hansen would stop and wait patiently before starting again. It was commendable. Finally, the general checkup was over and Dr. Martinez came in, sending Hansen away. 

"Good morning, Stiles. Big brother." Dr. Martinez greeted. 

Derek didn't even bother trying to correct him. 

"Someone doesn't look very good. I heard you were in quite the fight." The doctor joked. 

Stiles shrugged. He just wanted to get this over with. He laid down, trying to find a comfortable position for when Dr. Martinez got all handsy. Dr. Martinez pulled on a pair of gloves, making Derek growl. He hated that sound - it didn't exactly scream 'medical professional' to him. It screamed plenty of other things, however, that Derek was not okay with. The doctor pulled up Stiles' shirt, gently probing the teen's tummy. Stiles whimpered. There was no squeezing this time to calm him. 

Dr. Martinez was quick in his observation. He poked and prodded before writing a few notes in a file. The doctor grinned. 

"Well, you're banged up. I'm going to prescribe you some ointment for the cuts and bruising. As for that lovely knot on the back of your head - it's harmless. Otherwise, you need plenty of rest." Dr. Martinez said. 

Stiles nodded, sitting up so he could hop off the table. He was more than ready to go home. Maybe if he was really good and quiet on the ride home, Derek would stop for curly fries. Stiles hummed happily at the thought. Curly fries would make everything a lot better. Dr. Martinez put a hand on Stiles' shoulder to stop him from getting up. Derek tensed. He didn't like the doctor as it stood; Martinez putting his hands on Stiles in a non-medical way put Derek right at the edge. 

"Don't worry, big brother. I just want to ask Stiles a few questions about his last visit." Dr. Martinez explained. 

"We need to go, doctor." Derek said through gritted teeth. 

"You are welcome to wait outside while I talk to Stiles. This won't be long. I promise." 

Derek sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. Dr. Martinez smirked - almost triumphantly - and turned back to Stiles. 

"So, Stiles, have your accidents gotten better? Can you use the toilet at all?" Dr. Martinez asked. 

Stiles looked down at his dangling feet. "No. They've actually gotten worse. Full time diapers." He said softly. 

"Just wet? Or do you have bowel movements as well?" 

"I, well, I," Stiles choked up, "Both." 

"Curious. Well, just come back if there seems to be anything wrong. You can take him now, big brother." 

Stiles slid off the table and took off like a shot out the door, not even pretending to wait for Derek. He knew better than to leave the hospital, so he stopped at the front desk and started talking to Melissa. Derek shot Dr. Martinez a glare. He couldn't believe the older man had embarrassed Stiles like that. The pup's diapers were very noticeable - the was no way the doctor didn't see them while examining Stiles' stomach - and there was no reason for Dr. Martinez to bring up the accidents and make Stiles so upset. Despite wanting to tear the doctor a new one, Derek imply nodded and walked out of the office after giving the room a good sniff. Something about Martinez was off. Gathering Stiles and his new bounty of stickers, Derek headed to the car, eager to forget about the appointment. 

****

Jackson had never felt more like an ass than he did right now. He had done some bad things to people, sure, but seeing Stiles hide behind Derek, eyes teary and cheeks stained red, created the shittiest feeling Jackson had ever experienced. The minute he had walked through the door, Stiles had jumped behind Derek in fear and Derek had pulled out the full nine - fangs, claws, fur - and snarled at him. Scott and Liam held Derek back as the man tried to jump at Jackson. Derek was tried of staying quiet, of being calm and collected. He wasn't letting Jackson anywhere near his pup. Honestly, he was pissed that Lydia and Scott even thought it would okay to bring Jackson into the States.

"Out. You have no place here, abomination. Our pack has no place for you after what you've done." Derek growled. 

"Derek, I know you hate me. If you didn't, I would be surprised. But I'm not who I was then. No more Kanima. Promise." Jackson said. 

"You've always been a disgusting snake. If you won't leave, I'll drag you out." 

"Derek, you need to calm down. I brought him here. You know I wouldn't put the pack in danger." Scott said. 

"Shut _up,_ Scott. God, you just have to trust everyone. He tried to kill us. Are you that naive?" 

"Lydia's been talking to him. Jackson checks out, okay? Just give him a chance." 

"You convince Stiles and he can stay. Which means pry him off of me." 

Scott nodded and let go of Derek, who was led away by Liam. Stiles immediately took cover behind Scott. He didn't want to see Jackson. He wanted to go back to drinking his bottle with Derek and the playing with the pack. Malia had been excited to wrestle and Stiles wanted to make her happy. Plus, he could go outside and be in the sunshine. The warm weather days were slipping away quickly and they needed to be taken advantage of. Scott lifted Stiles onto his hip, kissing his forehead. Maybe if he was holding Stiles, this would go more smoothly. Jackson took a step towards Scott and Stiles, smiling brightly at the pup. It was finally happening; he was finally getting to talk to Stiles without something hiding his face. 

"Hi, Stiles." Jackson whispered. 

Stiles hid his face in Scott's neck. As embarrassed as he was that the pack was watching him act like the world's biggest scaredy baby, he didn't want Jackson touching him. He didn't trust him. Scott sighed. He needed to give Stiles a little push to get to know the new Jackson. 

"Here, Jackson, why don't you hold him for a minute? Maybe if he can hear your heartbeat -" Scott suggested. 

"NO! No, I don't want to! Papa! Papa!" Stiles cried. 

Derek was up in an instant, taking Stiles from Scott's arms and shooting the teen a glare. What the hell was Scott thinking, trying to force this on Stiles? It was obvious that Stiles was ready to pee himself our of fear. Patting the pup's back, Derek walked into the kitchen, Liam trailing behind him. Derek rolled his eyes. It was good to know that Scott spent so much time on giving him a bodyguard. He sat Stiles on a chair and went about making the teen a snack. Juice boxes made everything better, right? 

Malia toyed with one of Stiles' pacifiers as Scott and Lydia talked to Jackson. Everyone had been telling her that making people do things they didn't want to do wasn't right, but Scott was doing it with Stiles and Derek. Malia knew Derek could take care of himself, but Stiles looked so afraid. Was it okay because he was a pup? 

"Look, Jackson, we can try something else. Maybe you can have his snack with him or something." Scott said. 

"He doesn't even want to be near me." Jackson said. 

"Give him the present you got him, then. You can just put it on the table and he can open it." Lydia said. 

"Maybe you should just leave Stiles alone. He'll come around when he wants to." Malia said. 

The trio looked over at Malia in surprise. She hadn't spoken much since the talk yesterday, choosing to observe Jackson like a hawk would its prey. Which, arguably, was a smart thing to do, but Scott wanted this to he quick and painless. He just wanted everyone to warm up to Jackson and welcome him to the pack. It was unrealistic, but Scott was hopeful. 

"Maybe Malia has a point. It's like getting shots - we have to do a little at a time." Jackson said. 

"Jackson, you know how Stiles is. He's stubborn and he likes to worry. If we put you guys together more, he'll warm up faster. It happened with Liam and Kira." Scott pointed out. 

"To be fair, Stiles never hated us. Liam and I never bullied him. So, I think it's understandable that Stiles is resistant." Kira argued. 

Jackson sighed, looking at the gift bag by the front door. He should have just given the present to Stiles and left. The pack would have had time to explain everything to him and help ease his worry, and Derek would have had time to calm down a little so he wouldn't rip anyone's head off. While Scott and Kira argued, Jackson walked over to the door and grabbed his present before going to the kitchen. Stiles was giggling as Liam pretended to eat a peanut butter cracker, making grabby hands to get the snack back. Derek was smiling as he pretended to fight Liam for the cracker, which only served to make Stiles laugh harder. Jackson stood in the doorway watching the scene in awe. He never would have guessed that Derek, of all people, could be so paternal and playful. 

"I'm going to eat it all! Peanut butter is my favorite!" Liam said, making 'eating noises' as he brought the cookie to his mouth. 

"Hey, that's Stiles' snack! You go get your own, Liam! Shame on you!" Derek exclaimed in mock anger, playfully swatting arm. 

Stiles sipped on his juice box, thoroughly enjoying the show. It was so easy with some people to let go and be a pup. Derek and Liam were never short on cuddles or ways to make Stiles laugh, John always treated Stiles like his baby boy, Scott and Kira tried to involve him in things that indulged a more pup like attitude - the whole pack was accepting, but sometimes, it was just easier with Derek and John. And Jordan. Especially Jordan. 

Jackson took a deep breath. He had to do this. He walked over to the table and sat down. An uncomfortable silence immediately fell over the table and Stiles cowered into Derek's side. 

"Hi, Stiles. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Well, I know we did, a long time ago, and I did some mean things. I'm sorry for that. But I was hoping that maybe now we could be friends. I even got you a little peace offering." Jackson said, sliding the gift bag to Stiles. 

Stiles peeked out of his hiding spot. The bag was really pretty: gold with intricate little designs and stuffed with baby blue paper. Liam smiled at him and sniffed at the bag. He knew how Stiles operated - the older teen wanted to know that it was safe to open. Derek glared at Jackson, but pulled the gift closer. He gave Stiles a nudge, nodding towards the bag. 

"Open it. It's alright." Derek confirmed. 

Stiles put the bag into his lap and began pulling out the paper. What had Jackson gotten him? It was probably some kind of elaborate joke. Stiles would open it and a wild mongoose would attach itself to his face, or maybe it was a severed head whose dead eyes would simply stare at him. Jackson would never apologize to him - he was above Stiles. The hierarchy was not to be messed with, and Jackson would never give up his spot at the apex. Stiles knew what was up. He was no fool. 

Finally, Stiles got to the actual present. He pulled out the softest blanket he had ever felt, eyes wide in shock. This wasn't right. Jackson would never get him something this nice, and he shouldn't have known that Stiles was a pup. Yet, the blanket was a baby blanket and Stiles wanted to rub it against his cheek to know just how soft it was. There was even a fox on it! Stiles looked at Jackson warily. It was coming. The werewolf would laugh at him. 

"Do you like it? Lydia went with me when I picked it out. She said you love foxes." Jackson said. 

"It's nice. Soft. And stuff." Stiles mumbled. 

"There's other things in the bag. You want to take a look?" 

Stiles looked into the bag and pulled out two more items. Before he could stop himself, he started crying. This was a really mean joke. If Jackson was toying with him, Stiles would lose it. It wasn't fair that this asshole could come into his house and bring him such a nice present and befriend his pack again just so he could destroy everything. Not only had Jackson gotten him the blanket, but he had gotten him a storybook about a husky that came with a fluffy plush husky puppy. Fuck this guy. Fuck him. 

"You hate it. Lydia said you'd love it. She said you liked puppies. Oh my God, Stiles, I'm sorry. I can take it back." Jackson said, reaching for the book. 

Stiles held the book closer to his chest. "Why? Why are you being so nice? What do you want? What are you getting out of this?" He demanded. 

"Nothing, Stiles, I swear -" 

"Bullshit! You've never liked me! You always took everything away from me! My toys in preschool, my role in the second grade musical, the first place ribbon in the fifth grade science fair, Lydia, everything. And you tried to take Allison from Scott and you called my dad useless and you are such a prick! What makes you think you can just come back and do it again?" 

"Stiles, I came back to be part of Scott's pack. I had a lot of rime to think about everything and I swear, I'm sorry. I was an asshole to all of you, you especially. I want to make things right. I want to be your friend and maybe one of your caregivers. I know it'll take time, but I'm sticking around for it. Ups, downs, U-turns - all of it." 

Stiles sniffled. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. But you - you have to promise not to hurt anyone. Just don't. Not my dad or Jordan or the pack or anyone." 

I promise, Stiles. I'll take a blood oath, if you want." 

Stiles opened his mouth to comment, but Derek stopped him. As much as he hated Jackson, he didn't want to torture the kid. Maybe he didn't trust him, but his Alpha did. So, Derek was going to try. 

"So, do you like it? I can read it to you now. Or, uh, you can save it for bedtime. Or something. I mean, your dad probably reads to you and stuff." Jackson stammered. 

Stiles looked at the book, then to Jackson, then to Derek and Liam. He wasn't sure what to do. He actually kind of wanted Jackson to read it - the guy gave it to him, after all - but he also wanted to be able to read it with the rest of the pack. Could he read it with everyone else if he read it with Jackson? Liam gave Derek a look, seeing that the older man was baring his teeth at Jackson a bit. 

"You and Jackson should read it. We can read something else at bedtime." Derek said. 

"I don't like him, Papa. I don't care what Scott says." Stiles snapped. 

"I know, but you have to try, okay? Scotty is the Alpha. No one will get mad. Go on." 

Stiles nodded, kissing Derek's cheek before getting out of his chair and leading Jackson into the living room. He gave Jackson the book and sat as far away from him as possible. He wouldn't give Jackson any cuddles. Those were for the pack, and Jackson was far from being pack or anyone that Stiles actually wanted on his life. Jackson sighed. He supposed it was a start. He opened up the book and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this chapter. I had so many ideas and things, but they got a little out of hand, so if this doesn't flow too well, I'm sorry. But Stiles is cute in this one, so that counts, right? :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter, as it came late and I was in a bit of a rush to finish it. The next chapter should be better. Thank you so much for reading! You guys are great!

"Lydia, this seems like a terrible idea." Jordan said.

Lydia looked up from the instruction booklet in her hands. What was Jordan talking about? This was a great idea! It was even Derek approved, and lately, that was a hard stamp to acquire. Jackson snatched the instructions from Lydia, vexed. He was trying to put this monstrosity together for her, damn it, and she was too busy talking to Jordan to tell him what to do. Lydia gave Jackson an offended look before turning back to Jordan. 

"Give me one reason why this is a bad idea." Lydia challenged. 

"How about the fact that Stiles will probably murder us when he sees this thing?" Jordan asked. 

"It's just a car seat, Jordan. Maybe it'll help him regress a little again." 

"Maybe it would be okay if it was a booster seat or something, but this is a legitimate car seat with a five-point harness and head padding. This is what a baby-baby would sit in. How did you even find one in his size?" 

"Canadian fetish site. Don't you dare tell the Sheriff. Or Derek. Or anyone, for that matter." Jackson mumbled. 

"I wish I hadn't asked." 

Lydia rolled her eyes. "The point is, it'll be good for Stiles. It'll make the car safer for him." She said. 

Jordan mulled over Lydia's words. She seemed so sure that this was good for Stiles. Plus, she and Jackson had been hard at work assembling the car seat all morning. Jordan knew Lydia spent a lot of time brushing up on childcare when they had first found out that Stiles was a pup. Maybe she had a point - Stiles _was_ losing a little bit of his balance. He would sometimes sway when he walked or when he was sitting down. In addition to the safety concerns, it would also make napping in the car more comfortable for Stiles. The last time the teen took an impromptu nap in the car, he ended up with a sore neck and his arm asleep. Jordan smiled slightly. 

"Alright, you sold me on it. I'm doing some shopping for the Sheriff today and I'm taking Stiles with me. I can give it a test run and see what happens." Jordan said. 

Lydia clapped excitedly. "Thank you, Jordan! I really appreciate it." She said. 

"No problem. Is it really heavy? And will we be able to move it between cars?" 

"It's actually not that heavy, so moving it won't be hard." Jackson said. 

Jordan knelt down and picked up a piece of the car seat. If he was going to be here until the contraption was completely built, he might as well help out. Jackson was looking a bit frustrated anyway. 

****

Honestly, Scott couldn't believe his luck. Stiles went down for his nap like a dream with only a little bit of rocking and Kira was texting him some rather sexy things that were stirring up more than a little excitement down below. He was on cloud nine in every sense. It was fabulous. A buzz prompted Scott to look at his phone.

**Kira: Can I come over? SAT prep isn't till one.**

Scott bit his lip. He didn't know how John would feel if he found out that Kira had come over. Stiles really needed all of his attention to help help him regress again. Sighing, Scott began to type in his rejection. His thumb hovered over the send button. 

This was stupid. Scott didn't want to pass up time with his girlfriend. Erasing the message, Scott told her to come to Stiles' house and hit send. Consequences were damned at this point. 

**Scott: I'm at Stiles' place. Baby's sleeping. ;)**

It took all of two seconds for Kira to reply. 

**Kira: Be there in five.**

Scott smiled and leaned back into the couch cushions. Could his life get any better right now? He had gotten to play with Stiles a little, and now he was getting to make out with his girlfriend. Today was awesome. Scott sent a shout out to whatever god was listening. 

When Scott heard Kira pull into the driveway, he got up to answer the door. He didn't want to risk waking Stiles with the doorbell. Quickly, Scott ushered her into the house, only to be pushed onto the couch. Scott smiled as Kira straddled his lap and began kissing him. He rested his hands on her thighs, pushing up her skirt as she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his bare chest. Deepening the kiss, Scott gave Kira's ass a squeeze. She was so hot and smart and strong; how did he ever land a girl like Kira? Kira giggled and pinched one of Scott's nipples, making the Alpha moan. She had missed being intimate with Scott. Everything had been so crazy lately - she and Scott hadn't had a lot of alone time. Even now, Stiles was just upstairs, probably cuddling with his new blanket and sucking on a pacifier. Somehow, it made what was happening feel even better. It was a rush, thinking that she and Scott could be caught at any moment. 

"Are you sure Stiles will be asleep for a while?" Kira asked breathlessly, fiddling with the button on Scott's jeans. 

"Uh, yeah. For another hour at least. Don't even worry about it." Scott said, pressing his lips to Kira's once more. 

Kira eventually got Scott out of his pants, leaving him in only a pair of boxers. She peeled off her own shirt and tossed it aside. Scott looked at her hopefully. Maybe he would get to touch them today. If Kira was okay with it, of course. Kira grabbed Scott's hands and brought them to her breasts. He gave them a small squeeze. 

Naturally, that's when Stiles chose to start crying. Scott groaned, falling back onto the couch. Kira smiled softly. As disappointed as she was, she couldn't keep Scott from Stiles. The pup needed his attention more than she did right now. Scott shot Kira an apologetic look before getting and putting on his clothes. Running up the stairs, Scott headed to Stiles room. The brunette was already up and alert, tears dribbling down his face as he looked around the room. Scott sighed, walking over to the bed and picking Stiles up, patting his back. 

"Daddy's got you, Stiles. What's got you so upset? You usually nap for a long time." Scott cooed. 

"I-I lost my pacifier." Stiles cried. 

_Come on, man, you cock blocked me over a pacifier? All I wanted was to make out with Kira a little,_ Scott thought bitterly. He sighed; he couldn't be too upset with Stiles. The brunette didn't know he was getting in the way of him having sex. Besides, if Scott could just find Stiles' pacifier and get him back to sleep, he would have plenty of time to fool around with Kira. Patting the smaller teen's back gently, Scott began to hum and sift through the blankets for Stiles' lost soother. Stiles absently chewed on Scott's shirt, eyes drooping. His mouth was feeling awfully sore today - chewing on something made it feel a lot better. 

"Come on, dude. You're drooling all over me." Scott teased. 

"'M not. My mouth is just sore." Stiles mumbled sleepily. 

"Your mouth hurts? Can I see?" 

Stiles hid his face in Scott's shoulder. He shouldn't have said anything. Why would Scott even care? Stiles was almost eighteen. He could deal with a little discomfort. God, he was such an idiot! Scott set Stiles on the bed and began prodding the pup's cheeks and lips, hoping that he would be rewarded with an open mouth. 

"Stiles, let me see. I'm not going to get mad or anything. I want to make sure it's okay." Scott said. 

Stiles shook his head. 

"Don't do this, man. Just let me take a peek." 

Stiles shook his head again. 

"Please, Stiles. Let Scotty look." 

Stiles sighed, but opened his mouth. He didn't want Scott to beg. It wasn't nice or fair. Scott smiled and began looking around Stiles' mouth. The gums around all four of his canine teeth were red and swollen, as if they were irritated. Scott gave Stiles a sympathetic smile. There was no way that swollen gums felt good. 

"Your gums are a little swollen. I'll tell Jordan to get you something for them. Now, it's time for you to go back to sleep. Do you want me to rock you?" Scott asked. 

Stiles wanted to say yes, but instead, he shook his head. "I'm okay. I can fall asleep by myself." 

"Are you sure? I can stay with you." 

"I'm sure, Scotty. Thank you." 

"No problem." 

Scott kissed Stiles' forehead before heading out of the room. Maybe it was a good thing that Stiles was starting to self soothe. There wouldn't been anymore waking up at midnight, which would be nice. Scott tiptoed down the stairs and went into the living room, where Kira was sitting, still half dressed. She motioned for him to come over. He sat on the couch and Kira straddled him once again, kissing his neck. 

"It's kind of hot when you act like such a good daddy." Kira whispered. 

Scott smiled. He took back what he said about Stiles self soothing - he never wanted that to happen when he was around. If it made Kira this hot to see his in caregiver mode, he wanted it all the time. 

****

Derek was an impatient man when it came to most things. He was willing to admit that. Usually, when he was waiting and getting antsy, he was trying to pry answers out of an enemy or waiting for news on someone in the pack. It stemmed from anger or worry. Today, though, Derek's impatience came from Peter. He had been waiting for his uncle for almost three hours outside of the testing facility. It was hot and humid outside and he had already sweat through his shirt. So, not only was he tired of waiting, he was hot and hungry and bored. Derek was not looking forward to seeing Stiles in the same predicament - he imagined it would be his own tiny slice of hell. 

Finally, Peter strode out of the building, a huge grin on his face. He stepped up to Derek and held up a sheet of paper triumphantly. Derek grabbed the paper and - for the first time that day - smiled. Peter was now a certified teacher again. 

"And my darling nephew now has to hold up his end of the bargain." Peter said. 

"I know. John will probably be on board with it. You know Stiles, and he likes you. I just can't believe you actually did it." Derek said. 

"Believe it or not, Derek, I care about the pup, too. I don't want him in that joke of a school any more than you do. Plus, I know more than all the teachers of Beacon Hills High put together. Stiles will get a quality education." 

"For once, I'm proud to call you my uncle." 

"I'm still upset with you. You haven't even thought of telling Stiles that you love him." 

"I tell him all the time! At bedtime, when we play, when he gets hurt -" 

"You know that's not what I'm talking about." 

Derek looked down at his feet. He knew exactly what Peter was talking about. It just seemed so wrong, to love Stiles in any way other than a caregiver would. He was Stiles' Papa, the man who took care of him and bandaged his boo-boos and played with him - he shouldn't want to kiss Stiles or think about what it would feel like to run his hands through Stiles' hair while the teen gave him head. It was dirty and wrong and Derek wanted to punch himself for even thinking about it. 

"If you want to torture yourself, go ahead. I want you to be happy, Derek. Whenever you stop wanting to beat yourself up, Stiles will be there." Peter said, turning his back to Derek and walking towards the car. 

Derek sighed, falling into step behind Peter. He hated it when his uncle was right. 

****

"Wh-What is that?" Stiles asked, his face blanched.

Jordan winced. He had known the car seat was a terrible idea. It was big and childish and Lydia had gotten the lining in blue with little cars and trucks on it. It had padding to keep Stiles' head in place and a bar with hanging toys that would dangle above Stiles when he rode in it. Basically, Lydia had made certain that it was top of the line and had all the bells and whistles. Which, by the look on Stiles face, was apparently horrifying. 

"I know it's a lot, Stiles, but Lydia thought you would need it. We can test it out on our trip to the store." Jordan said. 

"I don't need a car seat. Especially not that one. I'm not some little baby who can't even hold up his head. I don't need it. I'll _never_ need it." Stiles bit out. 

Jordan sighed. "I think you need it more than you think you do. You wobble. A lot. It's probably just a part of being a pup and regressing physically, but you lose your balance sometimes when you sit or walk and I think maybe Lydia has some justification on this one." 

Jordan cursed as Stiles' lip began to tremble. He had been too harsh. Stiles was just upset about the fight with Garrett and his doctor's appointment yesterday and he was projecting all of his emotions towards the car seat because it was a big change. It was too much to process at once and Stiles was overloaded. Jordan looked at Stiles' teary eyes with sympathy. He had to give Stiles the push, no matter how much screaming and kicking was involved. Besides, he had Stiles' blanket and his lovey and a bottle of cold juice; what could possibly go wrong? 

"I won't ride in it, Jordan. I'm not some idiot who can't sit up straight. And I don't need toys to keep me quiet and occupied - I'm an adult, damn it." Stiles snapped. 

"One, watch the language. Two, it might be fun. I mean, it looks comfy." Jordan said. 

Stiles glared at him. " _No._ I don't need it. You sit in it if you think it's so great. What if someone sees me in it?" 

The light bulb suddenly switched on in Jordan's mind. Stiles thought this was a humiliation tactic. He was afraid of being caught riding in something so blatantly childlike and being made fun of. Jordan frowned; the worst part of this was that Stiles thought they were purposely trying to embarrass him. 

Stiles felt a few tears roll down his cheeks. Why was Jordan doing this to him? Why was _Lydia?_ Glaring at the car seat, Stiles contemplated his options. He could go hide and make life hard on Jordan - tempting - or he could suck it up and deal with the mortification of riding in the offending seat for ten minutes. It was a Saturday; there was a fairly good chance of running into someone he knew at the store. Stiles made his decision. 

He bolted. At least, he tried to. Jordan was wise to Stiles' tricks. He caught the teen by the waist and hoisted him over his shoulder with a small grin as soon as he tried to escape. Stiles squirmed in the deputy's hold, crying and whining. This wasn't fair! He didn't want to sit in a baby seat! He wasn't a baby and he didn't need to be buckled in. Jordan cooed softly at Stiles as he lowered the boy into the seat and began putting the straps in place, securing him in the contraption. Stiles continued to sob. 

"I know, Stiles, you don't like it. You're a big boy, but even big boys need extra things to keep them safe. Do you want your blanky?" Jordan asked. 

Stiles shook his head. He didn't want a blanket. He wanted to be normal. He wanted to be a help and not a hindrance. Jordan shook one of the toys above Stiles' head, hoping the bell would capture his attention. It worked. Stiles' cries dulled to hiccups as he became more and more curious. Jordan smiled - curiosity always beat out self-consciousness. Soon, Stiles was batting at the toys, his worries about being thought a baby seemingly diminished as he listened to the noises the playthings made. Crisis averted, Jordan climbed in the front seat and took off. 

****

Jordan didn't miss the way Stiles shuffled beside him quietly through the store, or the fact that the teen's cheeks were red for the duration of their trip. Stiles was embarrassed, and Jordan felt like an ass for putting him in the car seat and stressing him out. He had pushed too hard and Stiles was pulling away now.

Stiles was actually an excellent shopper. He picked out the best produce and was adamant that all the food needed to be healthy. Jordan merely followed the teen around with the basket and waited for Stiles' cue to head to the checkout. Stiles stopped abruptly, causing Jordan to almost run into him. The color had drained from the brunette's face. Stiles turned on his heel and began speed walking the opposite direction. Jordan chased after him. 

"Is everything okay? Stiles? Are you okay?" Jordan asked breathlessly. 

"We need to leave. Right now." Stiles said, voice quavering. 

Confused, Jordan simply nodded. "Okay. Let's go check out and we can talk a little -" 

"No! We need to leave now. We'll come back later, you can tell my dad what a huge brat I am, I don't care. I just want to go home." 

"Calm down. You're not a brat, I just want to make sure you're okay. Do you need something? Are you," Jordan lowered his voice, "Are you wet? We can fix that. I have your bag." 

"Jordan, please, I want to go home." Stiles choked out. 

"Oh, look. I didn't know they let spazatrons like you in here, Stilinski." A voice called. 

Jordan watched Stiles tense, his jaw clenched tightly and his hands curled into fists. Jordan turned to see who had spoken. A blonde boy, maybe Stiles' height, who had the biggest smirk Jordan had ever seen in his life, was walking towards them. Jordan felt his body heat up dangerously as the boy came closer. Obviously, this guy had something to pick with Stiles, despite the fact that Stiles looked one more word away from dissolving into tears. The blonde was beside Jordan now. 

"Didn't waste any time finding a new fuck buddy, did you, Spazlinski? Ooo, and he's older. Finally found a sugar daddy to care for the baby?" The blonde teased. 

"What do you want, Garrett?" Stiles asked shakily. 

Jordan's eyebrows raised. So this was Garrett. The kid beside him was the same Garrett who teased Stiles and beat him up, made him feel useless and akin to a burden. Stiles was quaking slightly as Garrett stepped closer to him. He didn't want Garrett to touch him. In fact, he wanted Garrett to be on the other side of the planet right now. This was supposed to be a simple shopping trip - was that asking for too much? 

Jordan was at a loss for action. He couldn't hit Garrett or put his hands on him, because he knew the kid's dad. He would be caught up in assault charges so fast he wouldn't have time to blink. So, Jordan watched Garrett torment the pup, who was starting to cry softly. 

Garrett snorted. "Aw, is the wittle baby crying? Does he need his big, bad daddy to save him? Scott's not going to help you, you waste of space." 

"Go away, Garrett." Stiles said. 

"Is that all you've got? Come on, I'm sure your boy toy won't get mad if you're naughty. I bet he'd like it." 

Jordan was done being passive. He reached out and grabbed Garrett's shoulder, pulling the boy back and glaring at him. Garrett simply grinned, making Jordan's anger swell. 

"You get out of here and leave him alone. If you don't comply, I'll arrest you right now for assault. Stiles' face is more than enough evidence to support the accusation - all his other injuries would be the icing on top of your incarceration." Jordan hissed. 

Garrett growled. "Whatever. Have fun with the little snot-nosed brat. I'm sure he likes it rough." 

With that, Garrett shot Stiles a smirk and walked away, leaving the brunette teen in a mess of tears and, unfortunately, snot. Jordan walked over to Stiles and pulled him close before leading him back to the basket. Taking a few baby wipes from Stiles' bag, Jordan began cleaning the boy's face. 

"I'm sorry, buddy. I should have done something sooner." Jordan said softly. 

"I'm okay. I should be more manly. Scott and Derek wouldn't need someone to fight for them." Stiles said. 

"Sometimes everyone needs a knight, Stiles. That's nothing to be ashamed of. If Garrett didn't scare you, I'd actually be worried." 

"Yeah, but Derek gets scared all the time. And so does Scott and Dad and you and everyone else. _They_ don't cry like babies." 

"Well, you have an excuse. And I'm sure they cry, too." 

Stiles began absently chewing on his thumb as Jordan finished cleaning him up, wincing slightly. His mouth really hurt now. He hoped that the gel they had gotten for his gums actually worked, because he didn't want to be dealing with this all the time. 

"All done. I think someone deserves a reward for being a good boy on this trip. What do you think?" Jordan asked. 

"But I was a brat. I didn't wanted to ride in the car seat and I walked away from you. That's not good behavior." Stiles argued. 

"I'm not liking your new found habit of calling yourself a brat. You had a slip-up because you were upset, but you've been good while we shopped. So, you can pick out a toy. Any one you want." 

"R-Really?" 

"Yes, Stiles." 

" _Any_ toy?" 

"Yep." 

Jordan had to sprint to keep up with Stiles as the pup ran to the toy aisle. He pretended not to watch as Stiles mulled over his options, his eyes darting from shelf to shelf. Finally, he picked up a doll with curly auburn hair that was wearing a very stylish dress. Jordan tried not to grin. The doll was made of cloth and it looked a bit like Lydia. Stiles ran back over and tossed the doll in the basket without a word. 

As they walked to the checkout, Jordan's mind stayed on the doll. Stiles hadn't chosen a toy for an older kid - he had picked something a young child would play with. He had to wonder what that meant. Was Stiles going to be a young pup, or did it mean nothing at all? Jordan shook his head. He was over thinking this far too much.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of updates, but school has been killer recently and I stay late for musical rehearsal. I also apologize for the fact that this chapter was rushed, so it's a bit rough around the edges. As always, thanks for reading and all of the positive feedback! You rock!

John gaped at Peter and Derek in disbelief. There was no way these two were being serious, and this was hardly the time for jokes. Stiles was still healing both physically and mentally and right now, the pup needed a safe environment that encouraged regression and wrapped him in comfort and love and not fear.

"You want to _what?_ " John asked. 

"Sheriff, I understand your concern, but Peter has his degree and his certificate. He's very good with Stiles. We've come up with a sample schedule and lesson plan." Derek said. 

"Peter is also a murderer and technically undead." 

"Such discrimination. The undead are people, too." Peter sassed. 

John huffed. "That's what I'm talking about. Stiles needs positivity. All that ever comes out of this one's mouth is sarcasm and insults." 

"Stiles loves Peter, though. They're both sarcastic and honestly, Stiles makes Peter a better person. Can we try it? If it doesn't go well, I'll personally help you find a new teacher." Derek promised. 

John sighed. How could he say no? Peter wasn't even asking to be paid. He honestly just wanted to teach Stiles and was ready to start Monday. A mental checklist formed in John's mind. There needed to be plenty of playtime in Stiles' schedule, and time for arts and crafts and stories and music. Obviously, he needed time for his academics, but he also needed naps. He needed time to help him regress. With another sigh, John looked to Peter. 

"Fine. Let's see the schedule. And Derek, I want you supervising at all times. I may mot trust Peter, but I trust Stiles' Papa." John said. 

Derek smiled a little at that. Sitting down on the couch, he began digging through Peter's messenger bag for the schedule and lesson plan. This was going to be perfect; he and Peter were going to give Stiles everything he needed. Well, everything he needed school wise, anyway. Derek handed the papers to John, who took a seat to examine the documents. Peter smirked and sat beside Derek. He couldn't wait to see the look on John's face when he finished reading his flawless plan. John picked up a pen and began editing. Peter hadn't allotted enough time for Stiles' afternoon nap, and there was no way two thirty minute play sessions were going to be sufficient. Peter growled. 

"What are you doing?" Peter asked through gritted teeth. 

"Fixing this. It's like you don't know how to take care of babies." John snapped. 

Peter rolled his eyes. "I know perfectly well how to care for a pup. But I'm sure you have _so_ much experience with this sort of thing." 

"Stiles is my son. I took care of him the first time he was a baby. I know him like the back of my hand." 

Derek watched the two argue, resting his chin in his hand. This was going to be a long day. 

****

"Jackson, come on! You've been in the bathroom for two hours! Do you think I wake up pretty?" Lydia snapped, her fist banging against the bathroom door.

Jackson growled. "I'm busy! Go take a shower in another bathroom!" 

Lydia rolled her eyes, but walked back to her room. She began digging around in one of her drawers. Who the hell did Jackson think he was, taking over her bathroom? The guy had his own, for Christ's sake! It wasn't like her bathroom was any better than his. Pulling a nail file from the drawer, Lydia marched back down the hall and quickly unlocked the bathroom door. She pushed it open without hesitation. 

"Goddamn it, why can't you use -" Lydia ranted. 

The sight before Lydia had her mouth snapping shut. Jackson was standing in front of the mirror with his pectorals cupped in his hands, eyes watering. His face was contorted in worry and panic and it made Lydia's heart heavy. At the sound of Lydia's voice, Jackson jumped, rushing to cover his chest with a towel. His cheeks burned with shame as he met Lydia's gaze. 

"Sorry, Lyds. I'll get out." Jackson blurted. 

Lydia put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving. There was something going on with Jackson, and she was going to find out what it was. Pointing to the toilet, she instructed Jackson to sit as she hopped onto the counter. 

"What's wrong, Jax?" Lydia asked. 

"It's nothing, really. I'm just being weird. You know us men, always checking out our muscles in the mirror." Jackson joked nervously. 

"Don't you lie to me, Jackson Whittmore." 

Jackson bit his lip, unsure of what to say. How was he supposed to explain this to Lydia? He didn't even know what was going on! Ever since he had shown up in Beacon Hills, his pectorals had been swelling; at first, he thought it was the result of his more rigorous weightlifting routine, but then they started getting sore. Like, _really_ sore. If that weren't strange enough, this morning, he woke up with his chest sticky and damp. So, he deserved to be in the bathroom for two hours. Jackson was in the middle of a crisis. 

"Jackson? Please say something." Lydia pleaded. 

"They're bigger, okay? Bigger and swollen and tender." Jackson said, embarrassed. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"My pecs, Lydia. I mean, I looked ripped, but it's not really muscle. At least, I don't think it is." 

"And it hurts? How long has this been going on? Why didn't you _tell_ me? Jackson, this could be serious!" 

Jackson winced. "It's just a little sore. No big deal." 

"So, you were checking out your swollen chest in the mirror. What else? You seem really shaken up." 

"They're kind of," Jackson lowered his voice, "Leaking." 

"What?" 

"Leaking, Lydia! They're leaking something!" 

Suddenly, Lydia began laughing. Jackson glared at her. He couldn't believe she was laughing at him. His body was having some kind of crazy malfunction and Lydia thought it was hilarious. In hindsight, Jackson should have just held his ground and made her go away. Then he wouldn't be in this predicament and could have forgotten about his problem and gone on with his day. Lydia stood up and put her hands on Jackson's pectorals, making her friend jump and push her hands away. This wasn't happening - Lydia was not going to examine him. Rolling her eyes, Lydia continued to poke and prod his chest. Without warning, she pinched one of Jackson's nipples, making him let out a noise of both discomfort and pleasure. A small pearl of milk beaded up from the nipple. 

"Are you done making fun of me?" Jackson snapped. 

"Jax, you're lactating." Lydia said with a small smile. 

"What? That's not possible! I'm a man, Lydia; men don't produce milk!" 

"Which is why I was laughing before, but I didn't think you actually were until now. We should go see Deaton. This might be a wolf thing." 

"But - But I'm not a female wolf!" 

"All the more reason to go see Deaton. Put a shirt on - I'm going to call Scott and the others and tell them to meet us at the office." 

Jackson watched Lydia go with a sigh. There was no arguing with Lydia; she always got what she wanted. He stood and picked up his shirt to finish getting dressed.

****

Jordan was exhausted. His night with Stiles had been a trip - the pup didn't want Jordan to feed him his dinner and Stiles ended up with everything that had been on his plate in his lap. That wasn't the end, though, not even close. Bath time had been a nightmare with Stiles screaming about how he didn't need help in the tub. The brunette ended up slipping and hitting his head on the edge of the tub, which started the crying. Jordan couldn't blame Stiles for the tears - the boy's body was bruised and beaten already. Then Stiles didn't want his bedtime bottle or to be tucked in. He demanded that he could stay up late with no problems.

In the middle of the night, Stiles began sobbing uncontrollably multiple times. The teen had terrible nightmares and apparently, he woke up when he needed a diaper change - which Stiles never admitted to - or when he was hungry. Jordan had held Stiles as he sobbed out his apologies for being so hateful. By the time the boy finally went back to sleep, it was two in the morning. 

Worst of all, Stiles was putting everything in his mouth. Pens, books, clothes, silverware: if it could fit in Stiles' mouth, it was in there. Not that Stiles even realized that he did it. Jordan always felt like a dick when he pried things from Stiles' hands and mouth. The teen immediately turned bright red and avoided eye contact every time. 

Jordan bounced Stiles in his arms, shushing him uselessly as he sobbed from the pain of his gums. He wished he knew what was wrong so he could fix it; seeing Stiles in so much pain made Jordan want to cry himself. Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, Jordan awkwardly reached for it, quickly typing in his code. A text from Lydia popped up on the screen: 

**Meet me at Deaton's. EXTREMELY important.**

Jordan felt fear turn in his stomach. What was wrong? Hadn't they had enough bad shit happen to fill their yearly quota? 

"Alright, Stiles. We have to go meet Lydia and the rest of the pack. Can we go get dressed?" Jordan cooed. 

"I don't want to see the pack. I'm a bad person and they're going to hate me." Stiles whimpered. 

"They don't hate you, Stiles. That was just a bad dream, kiddo." 

Stiles buried his face in the crook of Jordan's neck. "Fine. But I want to wear normal clothes." 

"That's a reasonable request." Jordan joked. 

With that, Jordan carried Stiles to his room to get him dressed. He couldn't let Stiles go to an extremely important pack function in his pajamas. Oh, but how he wished he could to save time. 

****

"Mr. Whittmore, can you please explain what's happening for me?" Deaton asked.

Jackson flushed. "Can anyone hear us in here?" He asked. 

"No. Don't worry - we won't tell the pack anything until we know something for certain." 

"Okay. That sounds alright." 

"Great. So, can we begin?" 

Jackson nodded before launching into his story. With each detail, Deaton's eyes grew wider, his hand flying across his notepad. This had to have some kind of connection to Stiles being a pup. Deaton pulled on a pair of gloves and looked at Jackson for approval before he began examining Jackson's chest. Jackson groaned. Everyone was groping him today. He didn't know whether to feel annoyed or flattered. Deaton watched, fascinated, as a small stream of milk dribbled down Jackson's torso. He had never heard of a male werewolf suddenly producing milk. Females, sure - they had the equipment and the hormones to make it happen. But males? None of his books said anything about that. 

Deaton walked over to his desk, picking up his file of information on pack pups. Perhaps he had run across something in his research that could prove a connection. 

"So, is there something you can give me so this will stop? I really don't want to be leaking all over the place." Jackson said. 

"Unfortunately, no. It seems that this is something completely natural. When the pack chooses a pup, it chooses someone to provide nourishment for it. Normally, it's a female pack member, but this pack is far from normal." Deaton said. 

"I can't feed Stiles! I mean, he doesn't even like me. He doesn't want me near him; how could I _breastfeed_ him?" 

Deaton smiled. "But you aren't opposed to breastfeeding him?" 

"If it's what's best for him, no." 

"You certainly have changed, Jackson. A far better man than you were." 

"Thank you, but what am I supposed to do?" 

"Well, you should tell the pack. Keeping secrets won't help your case. I cannot do anything about your condition, but I can direct you to some online sources about lactation." 

Jackson's cheeks were on fire. "Okay. That'd be cool." 

"Jackson, there's no need to be embarrassed or ashamed. I know it's strange, but no one will notice. Don't worry too much." 

"I'll try. Thank you, Doctor." 

Jackson slid off the examination table and walked back to the waiting room, where the entire pack was impatiently waiting. Lydia was the first one up, and she wrapped him in a hug. She knew she had been a bit overbearing earlier and that Jackson had been very worried. He needed the comfort. Deaton walked up behind Jackson and looked to John, who was trying to calm a very cranky Stiles, who was adamantly insisting that he _wasn't_ cranky because only babies got cranky. The brunette was angrily rubbing his swollen cheeks, making Deaton frown. 

"Sheriff, why don't you bring Stiles back so Jackson can speak with the others? I'd like to give him a checkup." Deaton said. 

Stiles shook his head fervently, his eyes growing wide in fear. He had just gone to the doctor two days ago! Why did he need another checkup? Was he getting really sick? Stiles didn't feel sick - he was just aching from being beaten up. He was perfectly fine. John sighed and scooped Stiles up, trying his best to dodge his son's wild kicks and punches. He followed Deaton to the examination room and set Stiles on the table, earning a scowl from the brunette. John rolled his eyes. Stiles could get glad in the same pants he got mad in. 

"I understand that Stiles was in quite the altercation a few days ago. If it is alright with you, Sheriff, I'd like to check out his injuries." Deaton said. 

"Sure, Doc." John said. 

"Thank you. Could you undress him to just his underwear?" 

John nodded and turned to Stiles, swiftly tugging his shirt over his head before he could protest. Stiles growled and swatted at John. 

"I can do it myself! I'm not stupid!" Stiles snapped. 

"I know you aren't, kiddo. Dada's just trying to help." John said gently. 

"I don't need help! I'm an adult!" 

Deaton quickly stepped between the two. John looked like he was ready to snap, and with the way Stiles was acting, something told him that John saying something too harsh would send Stiles right over the edge. 

"Sheriff, why don't you sit outside?" Deaton asked. 

John shrugged and left. Maybe Deaton could settle Stiles down. Deaton smiled at Stiles softly and began to examine the bruises on his body. 

"I'm sorry." Stiles whimpered. 

"I don't think I need your apology." Deaton said. 

Without warning, Stiles began to cry. "I'm a jerk. I'm a big, stupid baby jerk and I'm not trying to be but everything hurts and I don't want to be a burden and my gums are killing me." 

"Now, I'm sure you're not a burden. I happen to know that Scott loves you very much and I'm sure everyone else does as well. Perhaps you're just upset because - as you said - everything hurts, especially your gums. Could I have a peek inside your mouth?" 

Stiles nodded and opened his mouth. Deaton picked up a small light, shining it into Stiles' mouth. The first thing he noticed was that the gums surrounding Stiles' canine teeth were highly irritated and swollen. It was no wonder why Stiles was being such a righteous terror - he was in a lot of pain. Carefully, Deaton felt the tip of Stiles' canines, noticing that they were a bit sharper than usual. Deaton chuckled slightly. This was certainly interesting; Jackson was lactating and, apparently, Stiles was teething. 

"Well, Stiles, I believe you are teething. Your pup fangs are coming in." Deaton said. 

"But I'm not missing any teeth." Stiles said. 

"I know, but your canine teeth are lengthening and sharpening into fangs. They will become retractable once they've fully come in. That is why your gums hurt." 

"Are you going to tell everyone?" 

"Yes, Stiles. They can make you feel a lot better now." 

Stiles nodded and slid off the table. He supposed he'd have to go tell the pack now. Deaton simply picked him back up and set him on the table with a smile. 

"We aren't done, Stiles. This checkup has just started. You just sit tight." Deaton said. 

Stiles frowned. He didn't like the sound of that.


	21. Chapter 21

Deaton walked into the waiting room with Stiles trailing closely behind, happily chewing on a dog toy that Deaton had sterilized for him. Well, it wasn't exactly _happily_ ; it was more like it relieved the pain enough to where Stiles could get over the embarrassment of chewing on a goddamn squeaky toy. Stiles sat down beside Derek and allowed the older man to pull him closer. Derek didn't look very happy and that didn't sit well with Stiles.

"I assume Jackson has told you his news?" Deaton asked. 

Jackson nodded. Stiles cocked his head in confusion. What news? Had Jackson's news made Derek upset? Derek's fingers began carding through Stiles' hair and Stiles hummed happily, all the questions swirling around in his mind forgotten. John looked to Deaton. 

"So, Doc, everything's good then?" John asked. 

"With Jackson? Yes. With Stiles? Not so much." Deaton said, bracing himself for the questions the pack would surely hurl at him. 

"What do you mean?" Scott asked. 

"Is it because of the bruising? Is there, like, internal bleeding?" Liam asked. 

"He's under too much stress, isn't he? I told you that Jackson being here wasn't going to be good for him, Scott." Derek growled. 

Deaton blew into the dog whistle around his neck, making almost everyone in the room cover their ears to stop the painful noise. Once everything had settled, Deaton began to speak. 

"Well, first, and least threatening, Stiles is teething. His pup fangs are coming in and they are certainly giving him a hard time." Deaton said. 

"Explains a lot." John said. 

"Pup fangs?" Malia asked. 

"Yes, pup fangs. Stiles is developing a pair of retractable fangs, just like normal werewolves have. They'll be much sharper, however, like needles. Now, second off, Stiles is underweight by a little over," Deaton looked down at his clipboard, "Twenty pounds, which may not seem like much, but pups need all the weight they can put on. Especially skinny little ones like Stiles." 

"I noticed that when I picked him up after the meeting Thursday. He was really light." Liam said. 

"It's simple to fix, really. Stiles is a good eater, right?" 

Derek, John, and Scott all nodded. A good eater was an understatement. 

"But if he's a good eater, then why is he underweight?" Kira asked. 

"Stiles has quick metabolism and he's active. His body is burning through a lot of calories, especially with all the changes taking place in his body. It will help greatly to split up Stiles' food intake: more snacks, five small meals a day instead of three large ones, nutritional supplements. I would suggest switching one of his bottles of milk with Pediasure." Deaton explained. 

"And what about Jackson? Will he help in all of this?" John asked. 

"A valid question. Jackson's milk should be incorporated in his daily diet. It contains nutrients, protein, and many other things that can help Stiles put on the weight and stay healthy." 

Stiles finally quit chewing on the toy, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Jackson's milk? For some reason, that made Stiles think of Jackson owning a dairy farm. Since that was highly improbable, Stiles ran through other explanations. All of them were ridiculous and left Stiles no closer to an answer. 

"Plus," Deaton added, "Nursing could provide a chance to further Stiles' regression." 

Stiles' eyes widened. _Nursing?_ His pack, his _dad,_ wanted him to _nurse_ from Jackson. Stiles untangled himself from Derek arms and stood up, backing himself into the corner of the room. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't breastfeed from his former enemy, he wouldn't! He was not a newborn baby, he was not a freak. He wouldn't let his pack humiliate him like this. That was what really struck home - his pack wanted him to do this. They _wanted_ to embarrass him. Derek knelt in front of his pup, reaching out to take him into his arms. Stiles wedged himself further into the corner. He didn't want comfort. He was obviously being punished; why else would his friends and family do this to him? 

"Stiles, what's wrong? Are your teeth hurting? Do you want your toy?" Scott asked. 

Stiles' lip wobbled dangerously, tears filling his eyes. He just wanted to go home and let all of this blow over. And he never ever wanted to see Jackson again. Derek held out his arms once more and this time Stiles went to him, hiding his face in the ebony haired man's neck to cover up his embarrassment. Derek glared at Jackson as he carried Stiles out the door. They had introduced the idea way too early. Stiles had barely spent any time with the 'new' Jackson - hell, besides Lydia, none of the pack had - and they were expecting Stiles to be okay with suckling from the guy's nipples. Yes, what a fabulous idea. 

****

Melissa smiled as she watched Scott stare at the display of teething toys in front if him. The poor boy looked confused; Melissa had tried to take pity on him and guide him to the best product, but Scott wouldn't have any of that. He wanted to pick out the things Stiles needed. That's what good daddies did, especially after the episode earlier at Deaton's. Plucking a toy strawberry from the display, Scott turned it over in his hands. The package said that it didn't need to be put in the freezer and that it vibrated, providing quick and effective relief. His eyes darted towards a traditional teething ring, which claimed to help cut teeth faster. That sounded perfect - the less time Stiles was miserable, the better.

"Sweetie, we can get both of them. Who knows? Some kids don't take a teething ring at all." Melissa said. 

"I can't just get Stiles any toy, Mom. It has to be the best one that will help him the most." Scott said. 

"Scott, they'll both do the job. Trust me." 

Scott sighed. "Okay. Uhm, what are dribble bibs? It says they're useful." 

"I don't think you'll be able to find one in Stiles' size, but they're basically regular bibs." 

Scott nodded and turned on his heel to go look at the bibs. He could definitely find a bib in Stiles' size. He would try it on himself to make sure it would fit. Melissa followed him, endeared by her son's dedication. Scott picked up a plastic bib with a nurse's uniform on it, showing it to Melissa with a smirk. 

"It looks like it would fit him." Melissa challenged. 

"Yeah?" Scott asked, his smirk gone. 

"Yep." 

Scott held on to it. It was pretty cute, and Stiles would probably really like it. If he didn't freak out about it, that is. Melissa picked up a similar bib with a police officer design. She was definitely getting Stiles this one; he'd love it, because it looked like the uniform of the police dog from _PAW Patrol_. When she looked up to show Scott, he was gone. Curious, Melissa began to look for him. It wasn't like Scott to just disappear without saying anything. 

As Melissa wandered through the aisles, she called Scott's name, hoping for a response. He couldn't have gone too far; he had to still be somewhere in the baby section. After about thirty minutes, Melissa found Scott sifting through a rack of baby clothes. She walked over to him and smiled. 

"What are you looking at?" Melissa asked. 

Scott turned to Melissa, his breath hitching. "Am I a bad dad?" 

"What? Of course not! You're learning, Scott, you're trying. We all know that." 

"I can't give Stiles what he needs. He doesn't need me - he has Derek. He loves Derek. And now Jackson can feed him and I can't do anything." 

"Scott, you're important to Stiles, too. He needs his Daddy as much as he needs his Papa." 

"Derek is with him all the time, Mom. Derek is the one he's comfortable regressing around, Derek is the one who can tell all the cute stories about Stiles being a pup, it's all _Derek._ What do I do? I got him beat up, I yelled at him. I'm an asshole." 

"You aren't an asshole. Maybe you should just spend more time with him. You know I'm okay with you going to see him whenever you want." 

"He doesn't need me." 

"But you need him. That's enough." 

"Maybe. Thank you, Mom." 

Melissa smiled and hugged Scott tightly. She really wished that he wouldn't bottle things like this up. Nudging Scott away from the baby section, she led him to the checkout. If they were quick, they could go see John and Stiles before heading home. Melissa figured Scott could use that. 

****

Derek rested his cheek in Stiles' hair, his heart aching as he listened to the pup cry. True to Deaton's word, teething was really putting Stiles through the wringer. Currently, Stiles was gnawing on his fingers and drooling uncontrollably, soaking Derek's arms. The older man grimaced; he had been covered in blood and guts, and yet Stiles' drool was the grossest thing he had ever encountered. Not that he would tell the poor baby that - he didn't want to add insecurity to injury. John walked into the room with a tube in his hands and knelt in front of the duo.

"Hey, kiddo. Dada's going to put some medicine on your owies. Can you open your mouth?" John asked. 

Stiles didn't argue. He opened his mouth and let John stick one finger in his mouth to apply the gel in the tube on his gums. John smiled sympathetically. He prayed that the medicine gave Stiles some kind of relief. Once John took his hand away, Stiles shoved his own back in his mouth and began chewing. More drool dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. John chuckled at the face Derek made and handed him a paper towel. 

"Looks like you need it." John said. 

"Thanks." Derek replied. 

Stiles let his hand fall from his mouth as his gaze shifted downward. He was getting Derek messy and now Derek was upset. Derek gently massaged Stiles' red, swollen cheeks. They were hot with fever, which John had said was normal when babies teethed, but it still made Derek wince. Another stream of drool came in contact with Derek's arm, and he grimaced. Stiles whimpered. 

"Sorry." Stiles said. 

"It's okay, Stiles. You can't help it. Papa knows that." Derek comforted. 

"I'll stop, promise." 

"Don't worry about it." 

Derek offered up his fingers for Stiles as a reassurance. Stiles grabbed them hesitantly and put them in his mouth, sucking and biting on them as he whined at the pain. John patted the pup's head before heading back into the kitchen. 

A few minutes passed by and the doorbell rang, prompting Derek to stand up with Stiles. He strode over to the door and opened it up. Scott and Melissa stood there, smiling like this was the best place they had ever been. Derek stepped aside to let them in, walking back to the couch to get comfortable again. Scott sat in front of the two and began digging through the bag. He pulled out a strawberry with a handle and passed it to Stiles. 

"It's for your teeth. It'll help it hurt less." Scott said. 

"Wow, that was very nice of Scotty." Derek said. 

"Thank you, Scott." Stiles said, awkwardly shoving the toy in his mouth. 

Scott smile grew wider as he ruffled Stiles' hair. Suddenly, Stiles spit the toy out and threw it onto the floor, earning him a slap on the wrist from Derek for being rude. Stiles' eyes began to water. 

"It was moving, Derek! That's not normal!" Stiles cried. 

Scott chuckled. "The toy vibrates, Stiles. It makes for better pain relief. It's supposed to do that." 

"O-Oh. Sorry." 

Stiles scrubbed at his face to fight the oncoming tears. He was such an idiot. Of course the fucking toy vibrated - Scott and Derek probably thought he was a moron. Scott wiped the teether off in his shirt and handed it back to Stiles. The brunette didn't put it back in his mouth. 

"I'm sorry, Stiles. I shouldn't have punished you. You were just scared, weren't you?" Derek asked. 

"I didn't know." Stiles said softly. 

"That's okay. You can chew on it as much as you want. Papa's sorry." 

Stiles nodded and went back to chewing, his mind wandering as Scott and Derek talked. He couldn't help but wonder why everyone was being so nice right now. He should have been in trouble; after all, he had been a pill lately. Him getting in fights and being a brat had been ruining everyone's day this past week. That's why they wanted him to nurse from Jackson, right? 

That brought a sour taste to Stiles' mouth. He didn't care that whatever steroids Jackson was taking gave him the ability to produce milk - it wasn't his freaking problem. He didn't need to be breastfed like a baby. He already drank bottles. Jackson could jump off a bridge if he thought Stiles would actually put his mouth on his gross chest and drink his gross milk. 

"Alright, boys, I'm taking the baby. I haven't gotten to play with Stiles at all." Melissa said, taking Stiles from Derek. 

"Sure, Mom. Don't pinch his cheeks too hard." Scott joked. 

Melissa laughed and waved Scott and Derek off as she settled herself and Stiles into a comfortable position. Stiles stiffened. Why did Melissa want to play with him? Didn't she think it was a little weird that Stiles was basically a fully grown man-baby? Melissa grabbed the handle of Stiles' teether and shook it a bit, making it vibrate. Stiles sighed in relief; the movement really did help the pain. 

"Aw, that feels really good, huh? Those teeth are just giving you all sorts of hell." Melissa cooed. 

Stiles shrugged. "Dad put some medicine on them. I'm not going to cry about it." 

Melissa frowned at the retort. Scott had said Stiles was regressing more, but it didn't seem like he was at all. In fact, he seemed a little more jaded than usual. Unsure of what to do, Melissa tried to come up with a plan. John said that the way to get Stiles to be the pup is to treat him like a pup. That's exactly what Melissa was going to do. 

"What a big brave boy! Just like your Dada. But I bet they still hurt a lot. Before I leave, I show your Dada how to make paci popsicles that will help. I know you love sucking on your paci." Melissa said. 

"I don't like sucking on pacifiers. I don't need them." Stiles said. 

"That's too bad. Scotty and I picked up some new ones for you. One of them has a wolf and one has a Captain America shield and they have the clear rubber nipples you _used_ to like so much -" 

"Wolves? Like-Like Papa and Scotty?" Stiles shook his head angrily, "I mean, like Derek and Scott and the rest of the pack?" 

Melissa nodded, smiling. "Yep. Scotty picked out just for you. Do you want to see your new ones? If you still don't need a paci, we can give them to a Goodwill or something. Okay?" 

Stiles looked up at her, scanning her face for any sign that she was playing some kind of joke on him. All he saw was a smile and kind brown eyes. His face softened and he nodded slightly. Melissa grabbed the bag that Scott had been holding earlier and pulled out three packages and handed them to Stiles. He took them and turned them over, gasping. Melissa hadn't been lying - there was a wolf pacifier and a Captain America one. She neglected the fact, however, that there was one with a fox and one with baseballs - Derek was going to love that - and one that said 'Little All-Star' and one with the Winter Soldier's star on it. She and Scott had picked out the coolest pacifiers ever and Stiles was being a dick. Stiles immediately enveloped Melissa in a hug. 

"Thank you, Melissa. Thank you, thank you, thank you." Stiles said. 

"You're welcome, sweetie. Make sure to thank Scotty too, okay? He picked out most of them." Melissa said. 

Stiles was off her lap like a shot, running into the kitchen to thank Scott for him new pacifiers. Melissa sat back to admire her handiwork. She knew coming over this afternoon had been a great idea. Not just for Scott, but for her as well. 

After all, Stiles was probably going to be the only grandson she could spoil.


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles woke up in his car seat Monday morning in a panic. He didn't know how he had ended up in the car or who was driving or where they were going; it made for a lot of terror, which had mixed with worry and was now bubbling up in Stiles, making his stomach churn. He didn't even know what time it was, and the windows were tinted, only letting a very small amount of light in. Given that there was light at all, Stiles assumed that it was daytime. He had also just woken up, meaning it was morning. 

Stiles began to really work himself up, his breath coming out in short gasps. His body was shaking and tears were beginning to fall down his cheeks. His heart was beating so fast that Stiles thought it would burst out of his chest. Maybe this was all a bad dream - a really, really terrible nightmare. After all, no one would be able to get him with John around. John was too protective. Unless he wanted Stiles gone and he gave him over to a bunch of strangers so they could take care of him. Stiles began to sob at that. He didn't want a new family; he liked his just fine. 

Suddenly, a hand began patting Stiles' leg, making the teen jump and scream in fear. The owner of the hand made gentle shushing noises as he continued to pat and pet Stiles' leg. 

"Shh, pup, Papa's here. We're going on a trip for Peter. He needs some stuff for your lessons." Derek said. 

Stiles began to calm down, realizing it was just Derek. Derek must have put him in the car earlier while he had still been asleep. Stiles had been worried over nothing, as usual. With a smile, Derek handed Stiles a teether, which promptly went into Stiles' mouth. 

"Are you excited to have Peter teach you?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded hesitantly. He wasn't really sure how he felt about Peter being his teacher - John had said he was very intelligent and he had an impressive degree and whatnot, but Stiles had only ever been babysat by him. Stiles liked being watched by Peter, but he was afraid Peter wouldn't be such a great teacher. 

"It's going to be okay, Stiles. I'll be there, so nothing bad will happen. Besides, you're smart - you'll get through it." Derek said. 

Stiles shrugged and continued to chew on his toy, drool running down his chin. Derek cursed. He should have put a dribble bib on Stiles. The Lord only knew how much drool Stiles was making right now. Making a left turn, Derek pulled into the parking lot of a bookstore before parking and getting out of the car. He walked around to Stiles' side and began getting the brunette out of the monstrosity of a car seat he was in. Stiles felt panic rise in his chest again. What was Derek thinking? Stiles couldn't go into a store! He was covered in his own saliva, for fuck's sake! 

"I'll stay here, Derek. I-I can't go in there like this! Everyone will laugh at me." Stiles said. 

"I've got wipes to clean you up. You really think I would make you go somewhere looking like a baby so you could get laughed at?" Derek asked, finally getting the latches of the seat open. 

"Maybe. You would have before I was a pup." 

"What? Why would you say that?" 

Stiles whimpered. "You didn't even tolerate me before I was the pack's stupid baby. You hated me and I liked you a lot more than I should have. You would have ripped my throat out to be rid of me." 

"That's not true. I was an ass to you and I'm sorry. I never really wanted to hurt you, Stiles." 

Derek helped Stiles out of the car, feeling like the world's biggest jerk. How had he missed the fact that Stiles felt that way? And he didn't even want to think about Stiles saying that he liked him more than he should. That would be opening up a very bad can of worms. 

****

"Eight fucking ounces! _Eight!_ It feels like there are ten pound weights in each of my pecs and all they gave up was eight shitty little ounces?" Jackson ranted, making Scott back up and Lydia roll her eyes.

"Jackson, they don't make that much milk. Eight ounces will fill up one of Stiles' bottles." Lydia said. 

"Yeah, _one._ He probably needs more than one to fill him up." 

"Actually, you wouldn't need to fill him up. You're just providing a little extra." 

"Man, it's okay. Stiles might not even nurse from you or anything. Besides, Lydia's right. Eight ounces is a lot." Scott reassured. 

Jackson shrugged, becoming flustered as a few people turned to look at them. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he was really upset. How was he supposed to keep Stiles healthy if he couldn't produce more than a cup of milk at a time? Hell, Stiles wouldn't even look at him ninety percent of the time. Maybe that was the first problem he needed to tackle. After all, Stiles would never even consider nursing if he wouldn't even get near Jackson. Finally, the bell rang and Coach Finstock turned around to start class. 

"Okay, what class is this? Health?" Finstock asked. 

Everyone nodded. 

"Great. Your teacher scribbled some bullcrap about teaching you little deviants about drugs, but I'm changing it because none of you care about that. I picked this," Finstock held up a baby doll and shook it a little, "Up from the child development teacher. How many of you know how to take care of one of these things?" 

Most of the class hesitantly raised their hands, Lydia, Jackson, and Scott included. No one knew where this was going, but they were all rightfully worried. Finstock flipped a switch on the doll's back and tossed it to Jackson. The damn toy started crying - like any real baby would if it had just been thrown - making Jackson stiffen. Something wet began trickling down his chest and he handed the baby to Lydia before darting out of the room and to the bathroom. 

_Shit, shit shit! Is this going to happen every single time a baby cries? Because not cool, you two, not cool,_ Jackson thought. He pushed open the door to the bathroom and bypassed the other people in his way, locking himself in a stall and pulling off his shirt. Sure enough, his nipples were leaking milk. Cupping one pectoral, Jackson sucked in a breath and pinched his nipple. It was sore and left Jackson longing for something. Tears filled his eyes as he massaged his pectoral to ease some of the pressure. 

"Jax? Hey, man, you in here?" Came Danny's voice. 

Jackson's lip trembled. "Y-yeah." 

"We're alone. You can come out." 

Jackson unlocked the stall and peeked out, finding only Danny standing there. He finished stepping out of the stall. Danny smiled and gestured towards Jackson's bare chest. Jackson covered himself with his arms self-consciously. 

"You're crying. What happened? Scott sicced Malia on me to come and make sure you were okay." Danny said. 

"I started leaking during class when the stupid doll started crying. It's sore and I started crying because - and this sounds fucking ridiculous - I felt empty." Jackson muttered. 

"Dude, lactation does that. You want a baby drinking from you. Your mommy instincts are in overdrive right now." 

"I wish they'd quit their shit. And mommy instincts my ass." 

"It'll get better. Trust me, man, once Stiles is nursing regularly, you'll be fine." 

"He might never nurse, Danny. Then what do I do? Sell this shit on the black market?" 

"Give it to PETA and let them make ice cream with it." 

Jackson laughed at that. Maybe Danny was right. He just needed to hold out until Stiles was ready to drink. 

****

Peter growled in frustration as he looked at Stiles. He thought this kid was supposed to be smart; right now, Stiles was acting like an idiot. Peter picked up a marker and slapped it against the board, making Stiles whimper.

"It's not difficult, Stiles. What is the derivative of x cubed?" Peter asked. 

"I-I'm not sure. What's the rule for exponents again?" Stiles asked. 

"I just told you! Do the problem, Stiles, and quit stalling!" 

Stiles looked down at his paper in tears. He didn't know the answer - now school was spinning out of control, just like everything else in his life. Picking up his pencil, Stiles began scribbling. The answer had to be here somewhere. There was a three in the exponent, so that had to be part of the answer. Maybe it was the answer. Stiles gasped. Maybe this was a trick question, like those exponential functions! The answer was the problem itself! 

"It's x cubed! It stays the same, right, Peter?" Stiles asked excitedly. 

"No, that's wrong. Damn it, Stiles, I just told you how to solve these problems! Why aren't you listening?" Peter demanded. 

Stiles began to cry. "S-Sorry, Peter. I-I tried, I promise. We didn't do this before I left. We had just finished the second chapter." 

"That's not a good excuse. I just went over this with you! I know you aren't an idiot - why are you acting like it?" 

"It's just new. I'll get it soon, promise." 

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm sure." 

Stiles' face crumpled as Peter glared at him. He had honestly tried. It was just new material, and it took a few repetitions to lock it in. Usually, he would just use his notes until he could do it, but Peter had said no notes. Peter also only did one problem and expected Stiles to magically understand what they were doing. 

"Jesus Christ, do I need to spell this out for you?" Peter snapped. 

Stiles nodded against better judgement. 

"Why don't we do something more your speed? What's two plus two? Or do you not know how to count?" 

Stiles choked on a sob, unsure of why Peter was so angry with him. It wasn't as if he was purposely messing up; he was attempting to do everything. He wanted to learn, he loved to learn, but Peter was making it impossible. He wanted everything done right the first time, no exceptions. Derek walked into the living room once he heard the commotion, his teeth bared as he looked at Peter. He picked up Stiles to comfort him, despite Peter's dirty look. 

"It's alright, Stiles. Peter, what the hell happened?" Derek asked. 

"He's trying to get away with not doing his work and I called him on it." Peter said. 

"I was trying, Papa, I really was. I'm trying to remember everything, but I just learned it five minutes ago and I need to do more than one practice problem to memorize the method." Stiles cried. 

"Okay, pup. Let's have a little bit a water. That'll calm you down." Derek cooed, carrying Stiles to the kitchen. 

Stiles whimpered and buried his face in Derek's neck. Derek set Stiles in a chair and went to retrieve a bottle and fill it with water. Once he had done that, Derek handed the bottle to Stiles and walked back into the living room to deal with Peter. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Peter? I vouched for you. I said you would do well with him and you are literally doing the exact opposite." Derek said. 

"He isn't even trying. The kid isn't a moron, Derek, but he sure loves to pretend like he is." Peter said. 

"Did you consider that he might not understand everything the minute it comes out of your mouth? You have to _teach_ him, not just toss some information at him and expect him to suddenly become an expert." 

"Is my darling nephew calling me a bad teacher?" 

"I'm calling you a dick. Look, Stiles may have the body and knowledge of a teenager, but he has the emotions of a baby or a toddler. You have to be a little more gentle, Peter." 

"Alright, alright. Maybe I was a bit harsh. I'll work on it." 

Derek nodded, his eyes flashing for a moment to display his seriousness about the issue. He wouldn't stand for Stiles being bullied by Peter. Heading back into the kitchen, Derek ruffled Stiles' hair as the brunette drank his bottle. Stiles looked up and smiled. His Papa seemed much happier now; it was settling the butterflies in his stomach. 

****

"Okay, you had better start talking. What's up with you?" Mason asked, sliding into the seat across from Liam.

"What? Nothing! Just lots of homework and stuff." Liam stammered, laughing awkwardly. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't speak bullshit. Come on, man, we've barely hung out since the beginning of the year. It's the middle of October and we haven't even talked about our Halloween plans!" 

"I'm sorry, Mason. I just have a lot on my mind." 

"Like what? It can't all be school. Is it about Scott and his friends?" 

Liam sighed. "Look, I - I really can't tell you yet. Please don't be mad. I swear, when I can tell you, I will." 

Mason's face softened. "Hey, Liam, you know you can tell me anything, right? Like, anything." 

"I know. You're my best friend." 

"Are you dating Stiles?" 

Liam began to laugh so hard that tears came to his eyes. He couldn't believe Mason thought he was dating Stiles! That would never happen in a million years. After all, Liam liked girls. He held Stiles' hand and gave him kisses and hugs in a the same way a caregiver would. Though, if Mason had seen those interactions, he could see how Mason had gotten the wrong idea. 

"I'm not dating Stiles, dude. We're just friends." Liam assured. 

"You better not be lying to me, because I swear to God if I find out you lost your V-card to him and didn't tell, I'll kill you. Especially if you didn't give me the dirty details. Stiles is probably a beast in the sack." Mason said. 

Liam smiled at his friend, guilt eating away at him internally. He felt awful for neglecting Mason and even worse for withholding information from him. Keeping secrets wasn't really the key to a lasting friendship.


	23. Chapter 23

If Stiles was honest, he would admit that he was scared to have another day of lessons with Peter. He was afraid of being yelled at again and having to be saved by Derek. He didn't want to need saving; he wanted to be able to take Peter's harshness and not cry about it like a little baby. However, it didn't seem like that was going to happen, so Stiles was more than content to hide from his problems until he had to face them. He pulled his comforter over his head and curled up, cuddling with his baby blanket and his stuffed Husky. A thumb found its way to Stiles' mouth. He was too comfortable to look for his pacifier right now. 

It took all of five minutes for Stiles' peaceful, world blocking sanctuary to be destroyed. John sauntered into the room and flipped on the lights, acting much too happy for a man who had gotten home at one in the morning and only slept until seven. He pulled the comforter back and smiled down at Stiles, chuckling as the teen groaned and buried his face in his blanky. 

"Good morning, kiddo! Aw, don't hide from Dada. We're going to have a good day! I have today off and I'm going to be here with you and Derek and Peter." John said cheerfully. 

Stiles peeked at John. Maybe he could find the courage to get out of bed if John would be around all day. Sitting up, Stiles hissed with pain. It seemed like all of his bruises only ached more as time marched on. John took the brunette into his arms, sighing at how light he was. He loved being able to carry Stiles, but he wanted Stiles to be at a healthy weight. It was something all parents wanted for their kids. He carried Stiles to the closet and looked to his son for guidance. 

"What do you want to wear? It's going to be chilly today." John said. 

Stiles immediately lit up. "I want to wear my wolf jacket! Please, Dada? And the sweater Malia likes a lot, the one with the lacrosse sticks." 

"Good choice. Go wait on the bed for me, alright?" 

Stiles nodded and John let him down. The teen ran to the bed and climbed into it, picking up his lovey. He began teething on the ear of the toy as he watched John gather the requested outfit. John walked over to the bed once he had the clothes and set to work dressing Stiles. Stiles was unusually compliant, only squirming slightly in his excitement to wear his wolf jacket. Once the teen was fully clothed, John picked him up again and cradled him for a moment, simply letting Stiles burrow into his chest and giving the boy kisses. It was something John and Claudia had done the first time around - they would give Stiles cuddles and love before he started his day to get him in a good mood and to have special time with him. After the day Stiles had yesterday with Peter, John figured Stiles could use it. 

As soon as John put Stiles down, the boy took off like a shot down the stairs. John raced after him, his chest heaving. He was too old to keep up with a seventeen year old slash baby. Stiles ran right to Derek and hugged him. 

"Look, Papa! I'm a wolf! Grrrr!" Stiles growled. 

Derek feigned fear. "Oh no! What a scary wolf. Right, Peter?" 

"Oh, yes. Very terrifying." Peter agreed absently. 

Derek elbowed his uncle in the ribs. " _Right,_ Peter?" 

"Oh, Jesus Christ, fine! You're such a scary wolf, Stiles. Next time you expect me to act, Derek, at least give me some coffee." 

Stiles whimpered as he looked down at his jacket. Suddenly, the thing he had waited almost three months to wear wasn't so great anymore. He stared at the ground as he settled into a chair at the table, playing with his fingers as he waited for breakfast. Derek and John glared at Peter. Why did the guy have to crush Stiles like that? 

"It's okay, Stiles. Papa thinks you're the prettiest wolf he's ever seen." Derek comforted. 

"That's right. And you're a smart wolf. I can't wait to see you during your lessons." John said. 

Peter rolled his eyes, which went unnoticed. 

"Uhm, Papa?" Stiles asked. 

"Yes, pup?" Derek asked in response. 

"What do coyotes sound like?" 

****

Malia felt her phone buzz in her pocket during first period, pulling her away from the lecture the teacher was giving. While she was grateful for the distraction, she hoped whatever was going on was important. She kind of needed to pay attention; math wasn't exactly her strong suit. She pulled her phone out and hid it beneath her desk, opening up her text messages. She had two from John, which made her chest tighten uncomfortably. If he was texting her, something had to be wrong. She hoped Stiles was okay.

She looked at the first one. It was just a picture of Stiles wearing the sweater she had picked out for him, his wide smile showing off his swollen gums. The text read ' _he misses his Malia_ ,' which made Malia smile. The next was a video, which Malia assumed had sound. She looked around. Everyone looked bored out of their minds, and the teacher was facing the board. She quickly pulled out her earbuds and plugged them in to watch the clip. In the background, she could hear Derek and John asking Stiles what a coyote said, to which Stiles responded with a howl. She bit her lip to hold back her laughter. Stiles was just too damn cute and she missed him, too. 

Typing a quick message, Malia sent it to John. She was going to go see Stiles after school. She was in serious need of some pup time. 

****

Stiles sucked on a pacifier as he read his assignment for English, carefully highlighting and annotating passages to show to Peter. John and Derek had disappeared into the kitchen half an hour earlier, leaving Stiles and Peter alone. Peter was watching Stiles from over his own book, resisting the urge to let Stiles sit on his lap to read. He had to be tough or Stiles would never get anything done. That's what Derek failed to understand - Stiles was too active and he needed discipline.

"I'm done, Peter." Stiles said quietly. 

Peter took the book from him. "Good. Highlighted and annotated?" 

Stiles nodded. 

"Character analysis?" 

Another nod. 

"Symbolism and archetype study?" 

Stiles gave yet another nod. 

"Excellent. Now if we could just work on your awful penmanship, maybe it would be perfect. I can barely read this. What does this even say?" 

Stiles blinked back tears as he leaned in to read his notes. He would learn to have good penmanship; he would get John to buy him one of this books and he would practice until his hand cramped. He could make Peter really happy. 

"It says that the green light represents Gatsby's hopes and dreams, like having Daisy as his girlfriend." Stiles said. 

"You could have used your big boy words, Stiles. You aren't so much of a baby that you have to sound like one on paper." Peter scoffed. 

Suddenly, something snapped in Stiles. This was too much - all the teasing from school and the embarrassing doctor's appointment and Peter's insults were now causing an overflow of emotion that Stiles didn't know how to release. He was angry and sad and humiliated and hurt, so he did the only thing he could think of. 

He got on the ground and threw the biggest fit he could manage, which, admittedly, was pretty wimpy. 

"I used big boy words!" Stiles cried, "I used them and I am not a baby!" 

"Stiles, stop it. I know you're better than this." Peter snapped. 

That only upset Stiles more. He always had to do better; his feelings didn't matter and when he released them, he was the asshole. All he wanted was some comfort. He wanted playtime, because his English lesson had already bled over into it and now he had to go right to history without a break. He knew he was being childish, and he wanted to stop, but he couldn't. There was a knot in his stomach that wouldn't go away. 

"Get up, Stiles! I won't deal with your petty tantrums! If you're not a baby, act like it! Because right now, you look like a big baby." Peter yelled. 

"Peter!" John snapped, walking into the room. 

Peter spun around, looking only slightly ashamed. John walked over to Stiles and picked the brunette up off the floor, wiping the tears from his big brown eyes. Stiles turned away from him and shuffled to the corner. He sat down and pulled his knees to his chest. 

"Jesus Christ, Peter, he's just a kid. This was supposed to be a good day. We were going to go to the museum for his history and science lessons and you were supposed to be nicer. He's upset, Peter. Babies throw tantrums when they're upset, and trust me, that wasn't a tantrum." John said. 

"He needs to learn that I'm in charge here. I give the criticism, he learns from me. I'm not going to give him a break." Peter said. 

"He needs a gentler hand. Stiles is too sensitive to handle all of the yelling and insults." 

Peter sighed. "I know, Sheriff. Derek and I have already had this discussion. I just want him to learn." 

"And he will. Stiles is a smart guy, Peter. By all means, be firm, but remember that it's important to also treat him like the kid he is. Because I'm running out of second chances, Hale." 

"Yes, Sheriff." 

John nodded. "I'm going to go change Stiles before we head to the museum. I think Derek could use a hand packing up." 

Peter turned on his heel to go into the kitchen and aid Derek in whatever he was doing. He couldn't believe John had actually made him ashamed of himself. 

****

"Oh, quit your whining, Jackson. You'll be done in a minute." Lydia said, labeling a few bags for Jackson's milk.

"Lydia, I'm in the guys' locker room with you with a pump attached to my chest. I've earned the right to whine." Jackson snapped, wincing as the pump worked at his sensitive nipples. 

"Well, you have five minutes left. I'll give the milk to Malia since she'll be at the Sheriff's house this afternoon." 

"Have they been, you know?" 

"I don't. You'll have to be more specific." 

"Has John started giving Stiles the milk?" 

"Absolutely not. Deaton said we need to have him suckle from you first. That's why were meeting at his office Friday for the first attempt at getting him to latch to you." 

Jackson groaned. "Stiles won't take. He hates me." 

"He doesn't hate you. He's upset with what you've done in the past. He's coming around, Jax, don't worry." 

Lydia turned off the pump and carefully removed the cups from Jackson's pectorals. She could help but feel sympathetic - Jackson's pecs had been full, if the amount of milk in the container was anything to go by. They had probably been sore. Next time, she wouldn't chastise him for whining. Lydia cupped Jackson's face gently, wiping away the tears that were forming in Jackson's eyes. Jackson was miserable; he wanted to be near Stiles, he _ached_ to be. He wished he hadn't been such an asshole. 

"It'll be okay, Jackson. He'll latch in no time. Stiles will sense your nervousness and know you care. Babies can feel those things." Lydia assured. 

Jackson wrapped his arms around her and softly cried into her dress. He wasn't so sure that Lydia was right. He supposed he find out soon. 

****

Derek trailed along behind Stiles and Peter, trying not to laugh at the way Stiles would drag Peter from display to display. The pup was so excited; he wanted to watch every video and do every activity, even the ones made for children. _Especially_ the ones for children. Currently, Stiles was asking Peter if he could dig for dinosaur bones. Derek quickly strode over to the duo and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder.

"Stiles, why don't we move on? We have a lot to look at before lunch." Derek said. 

"But I want to dig for bones. Where's Dad? I want him to help!" Stiles said. 

"John is in the bathroom. We can wait for him, but we can't dig for bones, pup. I'm sorry." 

Stiles' lip began to tremble. "Wh-Why not? Was I bad?" 

Derek looked to Peter for help. He couldn't tell Stiles about the dirty looks people kept giving him for doing the activities for kids. It would break Stiles' heart. Peter sighed; it sure was difficult to be more gentle when his nephew demanded that he be the bad guy. 

"Stiles, people think you're weird. You're too old to play with the kids." Peter said. 

"Oh. Sorry. Can we at least see the dinosaurs? Please?" Stiles pleaded. 

"Of course. Let's go." 

Derek looked over at the dig site where a few kids were giggling and pointing out their finds. It was horrible, knowing that Stiles couldn't even enjoy himself fully. He was a baby, too, but nobody knew that. Stiles was a six foot tall teenager. Suddenly, Derek grabbed Stiles hand and dragged him towards the activity. He refused to leave until Stiles had his turn and he had pictures to prove it. Derek would lie if he had to. Stiles was going to dig up his bones, goddamn it! 

"Excuse me, sir, this activity is for kids ten and under. Both of you are a little old." A woman said with a sneer, pointing to a sign at the front of the dig site. 

"Excuse me, but my friend here," Derek covered Stiles' ears, "Was in an accident a few years ago. He has the mind of a young child. He really just wants to dig, too, and I know he's a little old, but he's really a sweet kid. Please, just let him play for a little bit." 

The woman's face softened. "Oh, I-I had no idea. Of course he can dig. Just find a tool and you can stay with him in case he needs you. I'm terribly sorry." 

"Thank you. Come on, Stiles, let's find you some tools." 

Stiles gave Derek a look that clearly said 'what the hell are you doing' as the older man squatted down and pointed to a little brush in the sand. He gestured for Stiles to get down with him. Stiles picked up the brush and looked to Derek for reassurance. He didn't want to embarrass Derek. Derek nodded. 

Stiles began brushing away the sand, a smile forming on his face. He wondered what kind of bones he would find. Maybe something from a T. Rex. Or a velociraptor! That would be so cool. Derek snapped pictures as Stiles used the different tools and pointed out his discoveries. Eventually, a little girl came up to Stiles and began digging beside him. 

"Hi! I'm Emily! Triceratops is my favorite dinosaur. What's yours?" The little girl, Emily, said 

"I-I like velociraptors." Stiles stammered. 

"Like in _Jurassic Park_?" 

Stiles nodded nervously. He wasn't sure if he should talk to Emily. What if he got in trouble? Her parents probably would like their six year old daughter talking to a stranger that was almost thrice her age. 

"I like you. What your name?" Emily asked. 

"Stiles." Stiles said. 

"Cool! You should use the little pick so you get the bones cleaner. My mommy says it's really important to do that. Is your mommy here?" 

Stiles shook his head. 

"Is she at home?" 

Stiles looked down. "I don't have a mom. She died." 

Emily frowned. "Sorry, Stiles. Sorry you don't have a mommy. But you have a daddy, right?" 

"Yeah. But I still miss my mom sometimes." 

"That's okay. I still miss my grandpa sometimes. My daddy says it means you loved them a whole lot." 

Stiles smiled slightly at that. "He's not wrong." 

Stiles and Emily went back to digging. John walked over to Derek and smiled when he saw Stiles playing with the little girl. Derek waved at John before continuing to snap pictures. Lydia and Kira were going to have a field day with them. After another ten minutes or so, a couple came over to pick up Emily, who seemed upset about having to leave. 

"I want to play with Stiles! Please, Mommy and Daddy? He's really nice and his daddy is right there and you can talk to him! Please, please, please?" Emily whined. 

The man and the woman looked at each other and shrugged before looking back to Emily. 

"If your new friend says it's alright, we can walk with them. I guess you're Stiles' father?" Emily's father asked John. 

"Yes sir. John Stilinski. This is Derek, one of Stiles' home school tutors." John said. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Nathan Hart and this is my wife, Valerie. I guess we'll be hanging out together for the day." 

John smiled. "I guess so. Come on, Stiles. Let's go see the rest of the dinosaurs." 

Stiles abandoned his brush and ran to John to continue his adventure with his new friend. 

****

Malia was used to just letting herself into Stiles' house now. She came here when she needed to just relax or when she wanted to be a little more wild. Derek was always there to help her learn control and Stiles always wanted to wrestle. Of course, the pup was a bit too banged up to roughhouse today, but she was more than content to just sit with him for awhile. Stiles was almost as primal as Malia felt most of the time. She opened up the front door and stepped inside to find Stiles sitting on the living room floor with John, chewing on one of his many teething toys. Stiles' eyes lit up when they landed on Malia and she braced herself for the impact as Stiles ran towards her.

"Hi, Stiles." Malia said. 

"Hi, Malia! I missed you!" Stiles exclaimed. 

"I missed you, too. Have you been good?" 

Stiles nodded. "Do you need help with your math?" 

"I always need help with math. But I just want to hang out right now. How about we read a book?" 

"Okay. I got a new book today. I'll go get it. Dada, can you keep Malia company?" 

"Of course, kiddo. Go get your book." John said with a laugh. 

Stiles dashed up the stairs to retrieve his book, barely giving John and Malia a moment to speak before he was back down. Waving the book around, Stiles made his way back to Malia and handed it to her. Malia smiled and plopped down on the couch. Stiles cuddled up next to her and she opened the book. 

"There once was a little dinosaur named Sammy, and he was very different from the other dinosaurs. He wasn't big and he wasn't mean. He wasn't tall and he wasn't green. He was small and loud and all the other dinosaurs never wanted him around." Malia read. 

Stiles began to suck his thumb as Malia went on. He decided that Malia was the best reader ever.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone, and merry Christmas! I worked hard to get this chapter out by today as a holiday gift to you guys, so enjoy and I hope you all have a great season!

Derek collapsed onto John's bed in exhaustion. Who knew lesson plans could be so tedious? He had spent hours on them with Peter, trying his damnedest to not rip his hair out. All John had done was laugh and offer him the use of the master bedroom before heading to work. So, Derek took the offer and banished Peter to the couch, because there was no way he was sharing the bed.

As his eyes drifted closed and his body relaxed into the warm blankets, Derek let his mind wander. He was worried about the meeting at Deaton's today; he was worried that Stiles wouldn't take to Jackson and he would keep losing weight. And, if he was honest, he was worried about losing Stiles to Jackson. The younger wolf was far more handsome and muscular and he could give Stiles everything: care, love, protection, even milk from his own body. Derek was pushy and abrasive and harsh. Why wouldn't Stiles toss him aside if he had the opportunity? 

Suddenly, a cry came through the baby monitor, pulling Derek from from both sleep and his thoughts. In what seemed like seconds, Derek was out of bed and in Stiles' room, reaching out to the teen to take him into his arms. Stiles quickly buried his face in Derek's chest to hide his tears. Derek rubbed the pup's back, cooing gentle nonsense in an attempt to calm him. 

"Shh, Stiles, shh. Papa's got you; you're okay. You're alright." Derek comforted. 

Stiles began crying harder, choking on his sobs. He didn't deserve Derek. He didn't deserve his pack or his dad. He was a murderer, a liar and a manipulator. He had let his insecurities control him and he had let the Nogitsune in and he had ruined everything. Somewhere deep inside of him that darkness was still lurking. It had to be - why else would he have such horrible nightmares? 

"I know, pup, it's scary. Dreams can be very scary. It's okay to be scared." Derek said. 

"It's not," Stiles hiccuped, "It's not okay. It feeds on fear and I don't - I don't want to become that _thing_ again." 

"Stiles, you _are not_ the Nogitsune. It isn't your fault that those things happened. We know that. I know that." 

"Derek, I killed her. I ruined Scott's life. He loved her so much." 

"Scott understands that it wasn't you. You had no control - you couldn't have done anything." 

"But maybe I could have! I could have killed myself when I had the chance! I could be helping now instead of letting all of you baby me! I can control it now; I need to control it." 

"Baby, you need someone to take control. You're falling to pieces. You are scared and you are sick. There's a reason the pack chose you. You need to be taken care of." 

Stiles whimpered. "I can't. I want to, but I can't." 

"That's why you have us. We'll help you." 

Stiles snuggled closer to Derek, gripping his shirt tightly as he bent down to grab his pacifier, blanket, and Husky. Of course Derek had thought about those things - they always calmed him. Stiles scowled to himself. He shouldn't need anything like that to calm him down. Derek gently bopped his nose. 

"Stop thinking like that. You can have all the blankies and pacifiers you want. No one hates you for it." Derek said. 

He carried Stiles to John's bedroom and settled him in the bed. Both he and Stiles needed a cuddle buddy tonight. 

****

"Dude, guess who's invited to the sickest party in Beacon Hills on Halloween." Mason said, leaning up against Liam's locker.

Liam shrugged, grinning slightly. He was willing to play along with Mason. 

"You and me, Li! This guy I've been talking to set it up and it's supposed to be awesome. Are you in?" 

Sighing, Liam shook his head. As much as he wanted to go and hang out with Mason, he couldn't. The pack had already planned a little get together to go trick or treating with Stiles and watch horror movies once the pup had fallen asleep. Just thinking about the plan made Liam smile; he loved being with his pack and Stiles. However, he also missed spending time with Mason. The darker boy had been his best friend for so long and he felt like he had been blowing him off too much lately. 

"You don't want to come? I thought it would be fun - you love parties." Mason said, eyes glued to the ground. 

"Thanks for the offer, Mason, I just - I already have plans. I'm really sorry, man." Liam said. 

"No, it's cool. What are you doing?" 

"Going trick or treating and watching scary movies with Scott and the others." 

"It sounds like fun." 

Liam could smell the disappointment on Mason and it made his stomach churn. Maybe there was some way he could hang out with Mason and the pack on Halloween. Suddenly, Liam smiled. There was definitely a way for that to happen. 

"How attached are you to the idea of going to that party?" Liam asked. 

Mason shrugged. "I really only agreed to go because I like the guy who invited me." 

"Well, why don't you come hang out with me and the other guys? You can bring your guy along and we can chill." 

Mason smiled and gave Liam a fist bump. "I can totally do that. I'll see you on Halloween." 

Liam excitedly bounced on his toes as Mason walked away. Everything was coming up Dunbar. 

****

Jackson was having trouble with his shirt. He couldn't seem to button the damn thing over his chest, which is why he was laying on one of Deaton's examination tables, trying to will the buttons together. He wasn't about to just walk into the waiting room to feed Stiles with his shirt hanging open. It would only freak the pup out. Deaton knocked on the door to the exam room.

"Are you almost ready, Jackson? Everyone is waiting." Deaton said. 

Jackson decided to leave well enough alone as he reached the final two buttons and hopped off the table. The shirt was straining so much that Jackson was afraid it would rip. Sighing, he walked out of the room and followed Deaton to the waiting area. He hoped that after Stiles nursed, his chest would deplete a bit. That would be nice. 

If Stiles took, of course, and Jackson wasn't holding his breath on that. Right now, Stiles didn't even know what he was here for. He thought that he was having another checkup. Jackson sat down and waited for the inevitable freak out that was about to ensue. 

"Are you ready, Jackson?" Deaton asked. 

Jackson nodded. 

"Excellent. Derek, Scott, would you like to settle Stiles?" 

Stiles looked up, the teething toy in his hand forgotten. Settle him for what? It wasn't nap time, and Scott had said he wasn't getting shots. Derek lifted him and started walking over to Jackson, making Stiles tense. He didn't want to be with Jackson. Why was Derek making him sit with Jackson? Stiles clung to Derek tightly so the man couldn't put him down. He wanted to know what was going on. 

It came to Stiles quickly after that. Jackson was making milk. Pups and babies were supposed to drink milk. Derek wanted Stiles to drink Jackson's milk like a little newborn baby. Stiles' lip quivered - they were going to make fin of him. Lydia already had her phone out to take pictures and she would probably show them to everyone at school and they would laugh at him, too. Stiles began to cry; how could his pack do this to him? Jackson had bullied him for so long and now they wanted Jackson to be his caregiver. They wanted to humiliate the stupid, squishy human that was dumb enough to believe that he could run with wolves. Derek patted Stiles' heaving back, his heart aching. It was too soon to attempt getting Stiles to latch. Pain and hurt were radiating off the teen in thick waves. He was scared and embarrassed and confused. Despite that, Derek wanted him to latch - it was the only way Stiles would put on some weight. 

"It's okay, Stiles. We're here. We wouldn't do this unless you needed it. Scotty and I will be right here for you, and so will everyone else. And Jackson is so happy that he can do this for you. He really is." Derek cooed. 

The words made Stiles a little less tense. Of course the pack was just doing what was best for him; they always did. It still hurt a little, but maybe Derek was right. He loosened his grip on Derek's shirt and allowed him to set him in Jackson's lap. Jackson smiled softly and began the struggle of unbuttoning his shirt. Stiles blushed once Jackson had his top open, his face even with Jackson's pectorals and perky nipples. He shook his head. Bad thought. 

"What do I do? How do I - what do I - I don't know what to do." Stiles said, panic seeping in. 

"Shh, Stiles. I know what to do. Just relax, okay? I've got everything under control." Jackson soothed. 

Jackson put a gentle hand behind Stiles' head and guided him to one nipple before moving his arm to cradle Stiles' head. Despite the awkward position, Jackson had never felt more comfortable. He used his other hand to cup his pectoral and carefully circled his nipple around Stiles' lips, as Deaton had shown him. It took a few minutes of the motion for Stiles to finally latch on, his mouth working at the teat as if he had been doing it forever. The brunette still looked a little panicked and worried, but he relaxed into Jackson, drinking easily from him. 

"What a good boy. You must have been a hungry little pup, huh? Does your Papa not feed you?" Jackson joked. 

"I feed him just fine." Derek responded, feigning disgust. 

Jackson smiled at that, his hand moving to stroke Stiles' face. The pup was really going at it; Jackson really had been expecting more of a fight. Scott ran his fingers through Stiles' hair. 

"Aw, look at his face. He looks so cute." Lydia gushed. 

Stiles was beginning to drift off, his eyes closed as he continued to nurse. He brought a hand up to his face and formed it into a loose fist, allowing it to rest there as he drank. Lydia, Kira, and even Malia squealed. Lydia snapped multiple pictures while saying something about a scrapbook. 

"I'll leave you all to your bonding. Just remember to change sides in twenty minutes, Jackson." Deaton said. 

"Yes sir." Jackson said. 

Jackson leaned in to press a kiss to Stiles' temple. He was hooked - there was no way he could let go now. Not that he'd want to; he liked where he was right now more than any place in the world.


	25. Chapter 25

"We need a plan, guys. This "regress at his own pace" thing is only making things worse." Scott said. 

Everyone groaned. It was bright and early on a Saturday morning, and, as much as the pack cared about Stiles, they also cared about sleep. The only person currently missing was Derek, but he had a good excuse. He was trying to get Stiles to sleep for at least another hour or two since the brunette had been awake since about two in the morning. Jackson had offered to nurse Stiles to put him to sleep, eager to cradle Stiles and feed him again after last night, but Derek had given him a downright venomous look before hurrying up the stairs. It was kind of hard not to take it personally. 

"Do you think the Sheriff would be mad if I made breakfast? Like, I'll make enough for everyone." Danny said. 

"You can make breakfast after we talk. This is important. I'm honestly really worried about Stiles; Derek said that he's been having more nightmares and that he's constantly worried that he's a burden or that he's too big for the things he needs. I don't think we can just leave it anymore." Scott said. 

"Scott, we can't force anything on him. I know it's hard - trust me, it's hard on all of us, not just you - but we have to let him breathe." Lydia said. 

"I know that, but that doesn't mean we can't help at all. Maybe Stiles needs more encouragement. We should be praising him for regressing." 

"So, you want to train him to regress? That doesn't seem like all that great of a plan." 

Scott growled in frustration. "Not _train_ him, just use positive reinforcement. You know, like in _Modern Family_ when they clapped every time they said the word adopted to show that being adopted wasn't a bad thing." 

"The sole basis of your hypothesis is a TV sitcom?!" 

"It is a little far fetched, Scott. I know you're worried, but that seems excessive. It might push Stiles to the edge." Kira said, fixing her boyfriend with a sympathetic look. 

"But we don't know that! Maybe it'll help, maybe it won't. We won't know until we try it." Scott said. 

"If you want him to act like a baby, shouldn't you just treat him more like one?" Malia asked. 

"I think that's a good idea. We do let Stiles be pretty grown up for someone who is supposed to be a baby." Kira said. 

"Yeah, but we can't always treat him like a kid. I mean, we don't want to embarrass him out in public when he gets all fussy because he's tired and we give him a pacifier." Liam pointed out. 

"Way to be the nail in the tire, dude." Danny joked. 

"Yes, but Deaton said that Stiles knows how to separate when he should be younger from when he shouldn't." Scott said. 

"Yeah, but Stiles still needs the diapers and the bottles and the naps even when he's supposed to be an adult. He still has grown up feelings and stuff." Liam said. 

"I think it's the best idea anyone has put up so far. I think it could work." Lydia decided. 

Scott sighed. "I guess you all agree?" 

Everyone nodded. 

"Then that's the plan. We treat Stiles more like a baby." 

Lydia smiled. "Great. Now that the pressing and depressing matters are out of the way, we can talk about something fun. Halloween! And Stiles' birthday, since it's the Saturday after Halloween." 

That launched a heated debate over costumes that kept even Danny occupied, the thought of breakfast forgotten. They couldn't let Lydia pick the costumes; they'd all end up in something less than enjoyable. 

****

_Stiles was rolling around in the grass with Malia and Scott while Liam and Danny made sandwiches and Lydia had laid out his blanket to be warmed by the sun for his nap. Derek and Kira were laughing at some personal joke and Jackson was resting his head on Derek's shoulder, which was a little weird, but he seemed happy, so Stiles was happy._

_Once lunch was ready, everyone sat in a circle to eat, and when Stiles bit into his sandwich and found that it was peanut butter and jelly - his favorite. Derek rubbed his back as he ate, making Stiles smile. Eagerly, Stiles scarfed down his delicious sandwich and accepted the cucumber slices Scott offered him. He was full and happy, happier than he had been in a long time. Suddenly, Stiles caught sight of John, Melissa, and Jordan heading his way. He got to his feet and bounced on his toes. His whole family was here._

__

_Not long after Stiles had finished his lunch, he began to feel sleepy. Derek smiled at him and took him into his arms, rocking him gently. Despite the soothing motion, Stiles couldn't help but whine a little. There was something missing._

__

_"Shh, pup, Jackson's almost ready. You're going to get your milk." Derek teased gently._

__

_"Don't tease him, Der, hand him over. I need to give my little man his milk." Jackson said, taking Stiles from Derek._

__

_Jackson cradled Stiles in his own lap, leading Stiles to his pectoral and helping him latch. As soon as Stiles began to nurse, Jackson sighed. Stiles supposed it was a symbiotic relationship - Stiles had milk, and Jackson had relief. Stiles looked up at Jackson as he suckled. Something was different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He wasn't used to being so happy with Jackson, not even in dreams._

__

_Suddenly, Derek leaned over and kissed Jackson on the lips, then Stiles on the forehead. That was new. Jackson smiled at the older wolf, his eyes brighter than Stiles had even seen them._

__

_"I love my boys." Derek said softly._

__

Stiles woke up, the dream leaving a lingering warmth in the pit of his stomach. He had dreamed about himself and Derek before - the guy was pretty hot after all - but he had never dreamed about Jackson, and he had _definitely_ never dreamed about himself, Derek, _and_ Jackson. Stiles' heart began to race. What did this mean? Did he have a thing for Jackson? Was his mind just thinking up crazy things to ruin his life? Stiles worked himself into a panic. He didn't know what to do. Not that it mattered if he liked Jackson and Derek; to them, he was just the baby. 

Naturally, Stiles began to sob. It wasn't fair! All of the nightmares and he gets one good dream and it makes him question his entire life! 

"Stiles, kiddo, it's okay. Calm down, you'll hyperventilate. Dada's here." John said, picking Stiles up and patting his back. 

John sighed as Stiles took to chewing on his shirt to calm himself. He should have picked up the pacifier with Stiles. Drool wasn't exactly fashion forward. Once Stiles had stopped crying, John carried the teen down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Danny had been hard at work making breakfast. Stiles hid his face in John's neck - he felt like everyone knew about his dream. Derek came over and kissed his forehead. 

"Hey, pup. Are you feeling better?" Derek asked. 

"Yeah, just had a weird dream." Stiles said. 

"Like, bad weird or good weird?" Scott asked. 

Stiles thought about it. "Good weird, I guess." 

Scott raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut. Stiles would talk about it sooner or later. John set Stiles down and chuckled as he ran to Danny, peering over the Hawaiian boy's shoulder at the pancakes he was making. Danny ruffled his hair. 

"Can I have one now, Danny? Please?" Stiles lowered his voice, "I won't tell Dada, promise." 

"Don't even think about it, sweetie. You need to nurse for a little bit before you eat breakfast." Lydia said. 

Stiles scowled. He didn't want to nurse - that would remind him of the dream, and he wanted to think about anything but the dream. He whimpered as Malia lifted him off the ground and carried him to Jackson, depositing him in the bigger teen's lap. Jackson blushed a bit. 

"I'll go to the living room. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Stilinski." Jackson said. 

John sipped his coffee. "Kid, I can deal with it. Go ahead and whip them out." 

Jackson laughed a little at that. He quickly popped the buttons on his top and began to guide Stiles. Stiles tensed. He wouldn't do it. He _wouldn't._ He did it yesterday to make everyone happy. Once was enough. 

"Come on, Stiles, don't you want some milk? Are you cold? Lyds, hand me that blanket. Maybe he wants to be covered up." Jackson said. 

Lydia carefully covered Stiles with the blanket, obscuring the feeding from view. She wasn't surprised that Stiles was a little uncomfortable. Jackson thanked her before attempting to get Stiles to latch. It took a while, but Stiles finally began to suckle. 

"That's it, Stiles. You're still waking up, aren't you? Still such a sleepy baby." Jackson cooed. 

Stiles had to admit that it was actually really nice. Nursing made him feel a little safer, and Jackson - like most werewolves - was extremely warm. Plus, he had noticed that Jackson loved to just say little things as he held him, and they made him feel good. However, that dream kept popping into his head. What did it mean? 

****

"We could be gladiators."

"And look like a bunch of frat boys? How about no." 

"I say we go as the Justice League." 

"Shut up, Scott! You just want to see Kira dressed as Wonder Woman." 

"But, cavemen, guys. Jax totally has the pecs for it now!" 

"Yeah, come talk to me when your nipples spew milk every time a baby cries." 

"Classic movie monsters. Ninety percent of us won't even need costumes." 

"Fuck you, Danny." 

Half of the costume shop had turned to watch the group bicker. Scott knew they should have picked before they got here. Now all they were doing was arguing and Stiles looked like he was about to cry. Scott itched to pick the pup up and cuddle him, but he couldn't. So, he settled for the next best thing: taking him away from the problem. 

"Let's go look at the costumes. Maybe we can find yours." Scott said, taking Stiles' hand 

Stiles allowed Scott to drag him through the store. There were so many fun costumes, but Stiles already knew what he wanted to be. He was going to be a police officer like John and his favorite dog from _PAW Patrol._ Police officers were super cool, and if Stiles wasn't meant to spend the rest of his life as a pup, he would be one. Stiles teared up - he would never get to go to college or have a career. He had to stay the baby and bother everyone forever. Scott stopped in front of a display of costumes. 

"What's wrong, Stiles? Don't you want to pick out a costume? Don't cry, Stiles, please." Scott begged. 

Stiles sniffled. "I want to be a police officer." 

"Okay! We can totally do that! So, don't be sad, okay? Daddy hates it when you're sad." 

"But-But I'll never be a real one. I'll never go to college or get a job and be able to help you guys pay bills or anything. I'm-I'm useless." 

Everything clicked in Scott's mind rather quickly after that. Of course Stiles would be upset about not being able to live out his dreams; who wouldn't? Deaton had said that Stiles would be a pack pup until he died, that he would always need someone to care for him. Scott now understood why Stiles always felt like such a burden. He knew he would feel the same if he were in Stiles' position. However, Scott couldn't think of Stiles as a burden; he was cute and always eager to play or cheer up the pack when they were upset and he still helped Lydia with research and sometimes even aided Deaton with magic. Stiles was very helpful in his own way. Scott wished his best friend could see that. 

"That sucks," Scott said bluntly, "It really does, and I'm sorry. I know you had plans for the rest of your life, but don't think that you're in our way. We love you so much, man. We get so excited every single time you regress a little further. You don't realize what you mean to this pack." 

"Scotty - Daddy, I didn't mean to make you mad. I'm sorry I feel like that sometimes. It's stupid." Stiles mumbled. 

"You're allowed to feel that way, Stiles. I just want you to know that you're none of those things. You're not useless or a burden or stupid." 

"Thank you. I'm trying to remember that, but sometimes it's hard." 

"I understand. I know how those kinds of feelings can mess with you. We're here if you need to talk." 

Stiles nodded and hugged Scott tightly. He had such a good daddy. Scott smiled as he kissed Stiles' hair. 

"Let's go get your costume, kiddo." Scott said, pulling Stiles to the next isle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking about changing the pairings again, in case you couldn't tell. ;) As always, thanks for reading! You guys are fantastic!


	26. Chapter 26

Kira admittedly, was a bit of a crayon snob. She had always loved art, even as a kid, and crayons had always been one of her favorite mediums. So, when she had seen Stiles' sad excuse for a crayon collection, she was appalled. They were letting him use Craz-E-Art! _Craz-E-Art_! In addition, he had a wimpy pack of only eighteen colors. Who only used eighteen colors? Stiles was one of the most colorful people she knew - he needed at least sixty-four, if not more.

It was for this reason that Kira was currently dragging Malia through Target. She was on a mission to get Stiles a great set of crayons, one that would make the pup's eyes light up like it was Christmas. Malia didn't understand what the fuss was about; she was just fine, and she had never had _any_ crayons. She didn't understand why this was so important. 

"As much as I want to miss Algebra, we should hurry up. My dad won't be happy if I'm late again." Malia said. 

"We have plenty of time. The school is really close." Kira promised. 

Malia sighed, but continued to shuffle along behind Kira. She supposed this was the kind of thing she hadn't learned in her time as a coyote. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally ended up in the arts and crafts section. Kira knelt down to examine the crayons, her fingers gently running over each package. There were so many options: glitter, neon, twenty-four pack, forty-eight pack. She never remembered these being around when she was little. Her eyes widened as they fell on the perfect set of crayons. It was a pack of one hundred and fifty-two, complete with all the glitter and neon hues. They were housed in a sturdy plastic case with a lid and a sharpener in the center. It was absolutely amazing; it had to be Stiles'. Kira picked it up, a huge grin on her face. Malia cocked her head. 

"Why is this so important to you? It's colored wax, and Stiles already has some." Malia said. 

Kira frowned. "I just want a thing with him, too." 

"I don't get it." 

"You have the wolf stuff to do with him, because you know how real puppies play. Scott is his daddy, and he is great at making Stiles feel better when he's upset. Derek is the guy who hangs the moon and stars to Stiles, Jackson feeds him. Everyone has a special thing with the baby except for me." 

Malia suddenly felt awful. She hated the fact that she couldn't tell when to leave well enough alone. Sometimes, emotions were just lost on her, especially when it came to things like this. 

"Sorry, Kira. Stiles will like it a lot." Malia said. 

"I hope so. Come on, we should get going. We don't want to be late, right?" Kira asked, smiling softly. 

Malia smiled back before falling into step behind Kira. 

****

Stiles groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the kitchen table. Peter continued his lecture on momentum, ignoring the noises Stiles was making. The pup was usually restless during lessons. It was nothing new. Stiles groaned again, clutching his belly. He didn't feel so good: his stomach was cramping and churning, his teeth were aching even worse than usual, his face felt hot. Cramming a hand in his mouth, Stiles chewed on it, desperate for a bit of relief for his mouth. Drool dripped down his chin as he teethed.

Stiles' stomach grumbled angrily. It didn't sound like a hungry grumble, either; it sounded like a things are about to get messy grumble. Stiles whined. A messy diaper was the absolute last thing he wanted right now. Before Stiles could do anything about it, he passed gas loudly, making Peter turn around. A whimper escaped Stiles as another fart escaped him. This wasn't good, not at all. 

"Derek, come take care of your pup." Peter called. 

Stiles let out a sob at that, trying to hide his face as he exploded in his diaper. Derek rushed into the kitchen, looking to Peter. He had no idea what was going on, but Stiles looked miserable. He picked the brunette up and began to bounce him in his arms. Derek's efforts seemed to only upset Stiles further. The teen whimpered as his diaper filled, hating the way it squished around. He decided that diarrhea was the worst thing in the world. Why wasn't there a cure for it already? No one should ever feel this terrible. 

Derek finally sniffed the air, almost gagging at the smell. No wonder Stiles was so upset; Derek felt upset just smelling it. He could only imagine what sitting in it felt like. 

"We'll get you changed, Stiles. Papa's going to get you in a nice, clean diaper and then we'll have one of those teething pops Melissa made, okay?" Derek cooed, carrying Stiles to his room. 

Stiles nodded. That sounded really nice. Derek laid Stiles on his makeshift changing table and pulled down his jeans before deciding to just get rid of the completely. The diaper had leaked through the poor pup's pants. Stiles' cheeks reddened in embarrassment. Derek sang quietly as he took the tapes off of Stiles' diaper, trying not to gag. Stiles had really done a number on the garment; God, Derek would be grateful when Stiles finally just cut his fangs. 

"Sorry I'm so gross. I'll clean myself up. Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry." Stiles whimpered. 

"Shh, baby boy. It's just because you're teething. Poop happens, Stiles. Papa's has dealt with far worse. Do you want your Husky?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded, taking his lovey into his arms when Derek handed it to him. Derek quickly finished up the change, giving Stiles a little extra rash cream as a precaution. Then, he helped Stiles off the table and let him toddle - that was the only thing that could describe Stiles' walk - back to Peter in the kitchen. He heard a series of thumps. Stiles was most likely sliding down the stairs on his butt. The teen thought Derek and the others didn't know that he did that, but they did. 

Derek was walking down the stairs when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned as he pressed the answer button. Phones calls were never good - they were always the bearer of bad news. 

"Hello?" Derek asked. 

"Derek? It's Rose." A feminine voice, Rose's, said. 

"Rose! Is everything okay? We haven't talked in months." 

"I know, Derek, and I hate to call only to ask for favors. We're having a bit of a problem with some rouge wolves." 

"We'll be there. Give me until tomorrow morning, alright? I need to speak with my Alpha. The kids are okay, right?" 

"They're fine, Der. I haven't told them anything." 

"Good. Don't worry, Rose, we'll help you." 

"I know you will, mejo. I'll see you soon." 

Derek hung up the phone and rested his head against the wall. 

****

"Come on, little man, you have to drink up. Jax's pecs hurt and little pups like you need milk to grow big and strong." Jackson coaxed.

Stiles whined. He didn't want to eat. After the diaper fiasco from earlier, he would never eat again. There was no way he was going through that a second time. Jackson settled himself into a more comfortable position before trying maneuver Stiles to his opposite pectoral. Maybe Stiles was one of those babies that always had to start with the right one. Jackson was certain that one made more milk anyway. Cupping a pectoral, Jackson circled Stiles' lips with his nipple. Stiles continued to pull away. 

"Someone's a tired, fussy Stiles. Would you rather have a baba?" Jackson asked. 

"No." Stiles whimpered. 

Jackson sighed as Stiles blindly began to suck on his chest. Derek had said Stiles was acting a bit strange. Guiding Stiles to his teat, the pup began to nurse. Jackson sighed: sweet, sweet relief. He gently stroked Stiles' face, looking down at the smaller teen. He could hear the sounds of suckling along with little snuffles as Stiles trued to find a good position. Stiles was so adorable like this - he always started to fall asleep while he drank, and his tummy swelled slightly when he was full of milk, which always made Jackson smile. Unfortunately, that swell always went away, and Stiles never seemed to gain a single pound, despite his new diet and the breast milk. 

"Jax." Stiles whined, nuzzling Jackson's pectoral impatiently. 

"What is it, little guy? Are you full?" Jackson asked. 

"Cover me up?" 

Jackson smiled softly as he awkwardly draped a throw blanket over himself and Stiles. After helping Stiles latch once more, he leaned back into the couch. Derek stepped into the living room and scowled. 

Fuck, he really hated walking in on this. Derek was happy that Stiles was getting milk, but he despised having to see him nurse from Jackson, of all people. He wished it was him that was able to provide for Stiles in such a way. He was already one of the pup's primary caregivers, and Jackson had to swoop in and take Stiles. It honestly wasn't fair. Derek cleared his throat. 

"I just talked to Scott. The pack will have the next four to five days out of school for helping the Mysteria pack. Melissa has already covered you on the excuse." Derek said tightly. 

Derek began to retreat into the kitchen, but Jackson spoke. 

"You can hang out if you want, Derek. I think Stiles is more comfortable with you here. He's kind of tense." Jackson said. 

Derek frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together. "It's okay. Bond with him or whatever. Stiles will be fine." 

Jackson bit his lip as he watched Derek walk into the kitchen. What had he done to upset the older wolf? They barely ever spoke to one another, and, lately, Derek seemed to be angry anytime Jackson was around. Jackson shrugged. Maybe Derek was just really stressed.


	27. Chapter 27

"Where are we going, Jordan?" Stiles asked, squirming as the young deputy tried to strap him into his car seat.

"One of Derek's friends needs help from the pack, kiddo. We have to go help them." Jordan replied. 

"Oh. I'm going to help, too?" 

"Of course. Where would we be without our best little detective?" 

Stiles blushed at the praise. He wasn't as good of a detective as Lydia, but he appreciated the compliment. Jordan tightened the straps and gave Stiles' chest a pat before closing the door and looking to Derek, who was putting bags in the trunk. Jordan grabbed Stiles' diaper bag as Derek crammed the final bag in the back and slammed the trunk shut. 

"Are we ready to go? I don't want Stiles to get too antsy - I have no idea how he'll be on a long car ride." Jordan said, laughing. 

"I came prepared. Lydia helped me download some videos on my phone for him and I have plenty of toys and stuff for him. We're just waiting for," Derek grimaced, "Jackson." 

Jordan grinned. "Great! That's going to make any food stops a lot easier. Jackson can just take him to nurse right off the bat. It'll make everything easier for all of us and Stiles." 

Derek shrugged, making Jordan frown. What had Derek in such a bad mood? Before Jordan could ask, Jackson jogged over, pulling a shirt over his head. Derek felt his cheeks heat up. This wasn't goddamn _Twilight_ ; couldn't Jackson keep his shirt on for five seconds? 

"Hey! Sorry I took so long. Is Stiles already in the car?" Jackson asked. 

Derek gave a sharp nod. "You're in the back with him. Everything you need is in his bag." 

Jackson nodded, feeling small under Derek's glare. Now he was certain Derek was just stressed out. He had never seen the older man so on edge. Jackson grabbed the diaper bag and took his place in the backseat. Stiles was already teething on his fingers, his cheeks bright red and swollen. 

"Hi, Jax." Stiles said around his fingers. 

"Hey, little man. Those teeth are still bugging you, huh?" Jackson asked. 

"They shouldn't be. Seventeen year old guys aren't supposed to teethe." 

"You're a special case, Stiles. Do you want a teething toy? Maybe it'll help more." 

Stiles nodded, eagerly taking the toy from Jackson hands and gnawing on it. Jackson ruffled the pup's hair lovingly. Derek climbed into the car and slammed the door, making Stiles shiver from the chilly air. 

"It's cold, Papa." Stiles said, teeth chattering. 

"I know, pup. Papa's turning on the heater right now. We don't want you turning into a popsicle." Derek joked, reaching back to rub Stiles' leg. 

Stiles laughed, kicking his feet a little in excitement. This was going to be so fun! It had been a long time since Stiles had been on a road trip. Finally, Jordan got in the car and they were off. 

****

Stiles hummed along with the radio as they drove along the highway, giggling as Jordan invented silly dance moves for the songs. Jackson had his tablet out, tapping away at a homework assignment. If he had to miss school, he didn't want to be playing catch up forever. As the song ended, Stiles' giggles died down and gave way to a series of whimpers.

"Papa? Are we almost there?" Stiles asked. 

"We're halfway there, pup. What's wrong?" Derek asked worriedly. 

Stiles' cheeks burned crimson. "I, uhm, I'm kind of, maybe, a little bit wet." 

"It's okay, Stiles. We'll find a place to stop as soon as we reach an exit. Papa should have asked if you needed a change earlier. " 

"Scott just texted me. He said we're going to stop at a diner that's coming up in about ten minutes." Jordan said. 

"He really shouldn't be in a wet diaper that long." 

"I'll be okay, really." Stiles promised. 

Derek sighed, turning his eyes back to the road. He was an awful Papa. Stiles shouldn't have to feel like he needed to take one for the team. After all, Stiles was the baby, and from what Derek had read, Stiles should be the team everyone was taking one for. 

****

Handicapped stalls were definitely smaller than Derek remembered. Or, perhaps, they were the same as always, and they just weren't made to hold three grown men. Derek was choosing the second one, because then he could blame Jackson. It was all Jackson's fault that they were crammed in here with Stiles, anyway. Stiles looked at the floor and made a face. He really didn't want to lie on the floor to get changed. It looked like it hadn't been mopped since the nineteen fifties. He opened his mouth to ask Derek what he should do, but the werewolf was angrily digging through the diaper bag and growling to himself. Stiles' lip began to tremble. Was he in trouble?

"It's alright, little man. Your Papa is going to clean you right up and then we can have something yummy to eat, okay? Maybe curly fries." Jackson soothed. 

"Stiles can have curly fries after he eats something healthy. He's on a diet for a reason, Whittemore." Derek spat. 

Stiles felt a tear roll down his face as he poked his stomach. Derek thought he was fat. A fat little baby. Jackson glared at Derek as he pulled Stiles in for a hug. The pup's hot tears soaked through his shirt and Jackson felt himself start to leak. 

"Was that necessary? Stiles has been cooped up in the car for almost three hours now and he deserves something for how patient he's been. And he's on a diet because he's underweight so I'm sure one serving of curly fries won't kill him." Jackson hissed. 

Derek's face softened as he saw Stiles' teary eyes. He had hurt his baby boy. He had hurt a person he cared about in so many ways and it made his heart heavy. 

"I'm sorry I snapped, Stiles. Come here." Derek said. 

Stiles hesitantly shuffled towards Derek, worried that Derek was going to punish him. He hadn't meant to make his Papa so mad. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and buried his nose in his soft brunette hair. It still smelled like lavender and baby powder from his bath the night before. Derek smiled at that - he loved giving Stiles baths. There was always some game Stiles wanted to play or some grand masterpiece the pup wanted to create with his bath crayons. 

"I'm sorry I made you mad, Papa." Stiles whispered. 

"No, pup, Papa is not mad at you. You don't need to say you're sorry. Papa hurt your feelings and I need to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything like that." Derek said. 

"But why are you so mad, then?" 

"I'm worried, that's all, Stiles. My friends are in trouble." 

"Oh. Don't worry, Papa! Your friends will be okay! Danny and Lydia and I will do a lot of research and you're the biggest, strongest werewolf ever right next to Scotty because he's the Alpha, so you'll stop whatever is causing trouble. And I saw Jackson spar with Malia and they're both really strong and Liam's getting really good and Kira is super awesome with her swords. Everything will be okay, Papa, I promise." 

Derek was certainly glad no one was in the bathroom to hear that. "Thank you, Stiles. Now, someone needs a change so he can nurse. Lay down on the blanket." 

Stiles did as told and wedged a thumb between his lips. Jackson watched with interest as Derek undid the tapes and began wiping Stiles bottom with quickness and ease. It was like Derek had been doing this forever. Derek gave a small growl as he felt Jackson's gaze, making Jackson back up as much as he could, which wasn't much. Jesus, Derek was protective. _Maybe he hates me. Maybe I'm still a threat to him,_ Jackson thought. Derek quickly finished taping up Stiles' diaper and pulled up his jeans before helping him off the floor. Jackson shut the lid on the toilet seat and sat down, unbuttoning his shirt and uncovering his right pectoral. Derek stared at the floor. Jackson laughed. 

"What? You've never seen a set of milk makers, Derek?" Jackson teased. 

"No, I've seen yours plenty. You never wear a shirt." Derek hissed. 

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Can you help me situate him? It's a little cramped." 

Derek nodded and began to awkwardly position Stiles in Jackson's lap. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to find a comfortable position for both parties. It was Derek's turn to watch in interest as Jackson helped Stiles latch to his teat. Of course he had seen it before, but he'd never really paid much attention. Jackson was actually really good with Stiles, whispering gentle encouragements until the pup began to drink. Derek felt like an intruder, watching such an intimate moment. 

"Derek, man, are you okay?" Jackson asked. 

"I'm fine. Worry about Stiles." Derek said coldly. 

"Well, you can give him kisses and stuff if you want to. He really likes it when someone gives him love while he nurses. I read that it's good for bonding." 

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' hair, sighing as Stiles nestled further into Jackson's breast. Jackson grabbed his hand and Derek pulled it to his chest, glaring at the younger wolf. Jackson glared right back. 

"Stroke his face. And stop being an asshole, Hale." Jackson said. 

"Stop touching me." Derek said. 

Derek gently stroked Stiles' face, smiling when Stiles' hand tightly gripped his index finger and held it to his cheek. 

****

Jordan sang softly as Stiles' eyes drooped, the brunette's mouth working at a pacifier as he drifted off to sleep. It was only a matter of time before Stiles was fully down for the count; he had a full tummy, something to suck on, and gentle music. Those were perfect conditions for a nice nap. Jordan fished Stiles' blanky and Husky from the diaper bag and handed them over. Stiles immediately cuddled into them and within minutes, he was out like a light, the pacifier still bobbing in his mouth. With a sigh, Jordan pulled out his phone and began playing _Candy Crush._ Anything was better than listening to the bickering from the two wolves in the front seat. 

****

"Pull the fuck over, I'm riding with Scott."

"I'm on a highway, Jackson, I can't just _pull over_." 

"Well, I told you I had to pee an hour ago and you wouldn't stop. Scott would have stopped." 

"Scott isn't even driving the other car! Lydia is." 

"Lydia would have stopped, too!" 

Jackson pulled out his phone and called Lydia. 

****

"I wouldn't have stopped for you."

"What? Come on, Lyds, you totally would have!" 

"Please. I only stopped to get Scott Cheetos because he gave me those goddamn puppy eyes. I would have left his ass there if I could have." 

"You would stop for Stiles!" 

"Yeah, because he's a baby and he can't hold his bladder. You can. Suck it up or I'll tell Jordan to annoy you for the rest of the ride." 

"Bite me." 

"I'm not the one you want to get bitten by." 

****

Stiles woke up to new passengers in the car. Derek was still driving, but now Liam sat in the front and Danny in the back. Rubbing at his eyes, Stiles began to whine. Where were Jackson and Jordan? He liked riding with them just fine, thank you very much . Not that he didn't like Liam and Danny, of course; he just didn't like waking up to different people with no warning. Derek checked the rear view mirror and smiled at Stiles.

"Did you have a good nap, pup?" Derek asked. 

Stiles pouted. "Where are Jax and Jordan?" 

"We switched off, Stiles. Lydia was about to tear out her hair dealing with these two." 

Stiles gasped. "Why were you and Liam bad for Lydia, Danny?" 

"We weren't bad! She just wouldn't let us mess with the radio!" Liam protested. 

"Probably because you listen to crappy alternative bands." Danny teased. 

"At least I wasn't talking about lacrosse nonstop." 

"Hey! Lacrosse is the great American past time. Baseball can suck it." 

Stiles made a sour face. "Papa likes baseball, though. You have to be nice about all sports." 

"It's okay, Stiles. We'll play a baseball game one day with the whole pack and they can eat their words." Derek said, a dangerous glint in his eye. 

"Can I be on your team, Papa?" 

"Of course." 

Stiles grinned, becoming enraptured in the toys dangling above him. Of course he'd be on his Papa's team! There was no way Derek would make him be chosen last. 

****

Stiles wasn't so sure about helping Derek's friends anymore. Their house was humongous and eerie looking, with sports balls and toys scattered through the yard and a big brass knocker on the door. Stiles briefly wondered if they ate pups like him. Hiding behind Derek, Stiles willed his legs to carry him towards the house. Derek knocked on the door before sweeping Stiles off his feet, allowing the pup to snuggle into him. The door opened with a shrill squeak and a woman appeared, a bright smile on her tanned face.

"Derek! Thank you for coming on such short notice. I know it can be hard with little ones." The woman said, quickly kissing Derek's cheek. 

"It was the least I could do after everything you've done for my family. Oh, and Rose, this is Stiles, our pack pup." Derek said. 

"He's adorable! Bexar has been so excited to meet him. I think he hates being the youngest. He's desperate for a playmate." The woman, Rose, chuckled. 

"I need to get Stiles changed before we do any introductions. Do you have a certain place for me to take care of him real quick?" 

"Of course, Der. Follow me. Your friends at the car - they're wolves, too, yes?" 

"They are. Well, Liam is. They'll be able to track us." 

"Great. Let me show you and this little cutie to your room, then." 

Derek shifted Stiles in his arms before following her inside. He liked the house; it reminded him of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried out a new style for this chapter, which was using the small snipets of dialogue and the short scenes to span the time. I hope you guys don't mind being my guinea pigs. ;) Thank you for reading, as usual!


	28. Chapter 28

Derek gently rocked Stiles in his arms, enjoying the gentle rhythm of the pup's heart and the soft puffs of warm breath against his neck. The teen had barely spent any time exploring his new surroundings before he begged Derek to pick him up. Only five minutes later, Stiles had been out like a light, mouth furiously suckling a nonexistent pacifier. The drive had really worn the poor guy out.

Stiles shifted in his sleep. A small sigh escaped from him, a loosely curled fist coming to rest by his face, which buried itself further into the crook of Derek's neck. Derek patted the teen's back, singing softly an old lullaby. He leaned back against the couch, his own eyes drifting shut. A nap didn't sound all that awful. He was definitely glad Stiles was taking one; the boy had been up since four thirty in the morning and he had only taken a thirty minute nap in the car. Derek cracked an eye open as Rose covered Stiles and himself with a blanket and quickly closed it once he was sure there was no threat. 

Sleep didn't come to Derek, but he was okay with that. Resting with Stiles was more than enough to restore Derek's energy. He ran his fingers through soft brunette tresses and kissed Stiles' forehead, enjoying the way Stiles sighed and snuffled in his sleep. Derek sighed happily himself, his ears perking up as he heard a car pull into the driveway. Perhaps Lydia, Danny, and Peter were back from the bookstore. 

The front door creaked open and the heavy thud of running feet could be heard, making Derek jolt into alertness. Stiles wriggled, irritated by the new noise. _Please don't wake up, stay asleep,_ Derek thought, sighing as Stiles settled again, _that's a good pup._

"Derek!" A voice screeched. 

Well, so much for Stiles staying asleep. The teen woke with a whimper, eyes already swimming with tears. Derek began to shush him. If he worked quickly, maybe Stiles wouldn't cry. A man could dream, couldn't he? 

"Hey, pup, Papa's here. I've got you, baby boy, you're safe. Do you want a paci?" Derek cooed. 

The comforting words did absolutely nothing to help Stiles' mood. The pup continued to whimper and his lip began to tremble with the promise of sobs. Derek would swear on his life that his heart broke right then. 

"Oh, Stiles, it's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, pup, not with Papa around." Derek said, peppering Stiles' face in kisses. 

Suddenly, a young man with platinum blonde tresses and tanned skin ran into the room. He was about twenty - maybe older - and he looked at Derek with large, expectant eyes. Lunging forward, he nearly knocked Derek over, attempting to hug him over Stiles. 

Naturally, it all startled Stiles, and the promise of sobs became a reality. He hid his face in Derek's neck in both fear and humiliation and allowed himself to cry freely, his thumb tucking itself into his mouth. Derek gave the man a low growl of warning. 

"Bexar, please go play with your Mama for a while. Stiles needs to nap." Derek said. 

The young man - Bexar - began to whine. "But Derek, I'm your pup! We're supposed to play! Not my fault the baby's being a crybaby." 

Stiles tensed in Derek's arms. What did Bexar mean? Obviously he was Derek's pup, not Bexar. But that didn't mean that Derek liked him more than Bexar, who probably didn't wear diapers or need naps. Besides, Bexar was strong and he could probably be a better baseball teammate than Stiles. Stiles hiccuped; now he would be picked last for his Papa's baseball team. 

"Just relax, Stiles. Maybe I should let Jackson feed you for a while." Derek said softly, grimacing at the thought of giving Stiles over to Jackson. 

Bexar nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Mommy says babies have to drink lots and lots of milk and he's a baby so he should go eat with his mommy and we can play!" 

Stiles let out a shaky breath. "I'm okay, Papa, really. I want to play. Please?" 

"Are you sure, baby boy? We can go lay down in our room. I know you must be very tired." Derek said. 

"I want to play." 

Derek nodded and set Stiles down next to Bexar. Stiles had to look up to get a good view of the other pup's face. Bexar was so tall; he had a good four to five inches on Stiles. It was intimidating to say the least. Bexar glared at Stiles. 

"I don't wanna play with him. He probably only knows how to play baby games." Bexar sneered. 

Rose peeked into the living room. "I know that can't be you saying that, Bexar, because you promised to be nice." She scolded. 

"But Mommy, the baby can't play Legos and I wanna play that with Derek! He's gonna need lots of help and it'll get boring!" 

"Well, why don't you and Laura and Stiles play a game together, then? I need to talk to Derek for a minute." 

"Fine. Come on, baby, we have to go find my big sister." 

A strong hand gripped Stiles' wrist and began to drag him towards the door. Something told him that he wasn't going to have much fun playing with Bexar. 

****

Laura, as it turned out, was Rose's eight year old daughter. She looked an awful lot like her mother, with long, silky black hair and tanned skin, but her eyes were a brilliant green that Stiles supposed came from her father. He figured that if she had the same pretty eyes as his Papa, she would be just as nice as Derek. Plus, she was technically the oldest kid in this situation. That had to count for something, right?

Stiles gnawed on a teething ring as he listened to Bexar and Laura discuss what game they should play. They mostly ignored him, but he heard 'the baby' being thrown around liberally in their conversation. They wanted to play with him. How exciting! Stiles had never really had a playmate - let alone one that was a pup like him - and he was ecstatic to have not only one, but two. Finally, the duo looked to Stiles. 

"We're going to play house." Laura said happily. 

"Okay. Can I be the Daddy?" Stiles pleaded, "Please?" 

"No, you're the baby, because you're the littlest. And you're a baby, but Mommy said I have to be nice. So it's 'cause you're the littlest." Bexar said. 

"B-But I don't want to be the baby. I want to be like my Daddy and Papa." 

"You're not playing nice, baby. I'm going to tell your Papa and he's going to get really mad at you." Laura said. 

Stiles whimpered. He didn't want Derek to be upset with him. However, he also felt like he _was_ playing nice. Maybe Laura was right, though. She was the oldest after all. 

"Okay, I'll be the baby." Stiles said softly. 

"Yay! You gotta go in the playpen, because that's where babies go. Come on." Bexar said, scooping Stiles up. 

Bexar practically tossed Stiles into the playpen before giving him a few toys from his diaper bag. Now that Stiles thought about it, they were all toys for very young kids, infants, even. A rattle and his stuffed Husky and big plastic keys had been given to him; Stiles felt awful, like he was an embarrassment. Tears gathered in his eyes as he watched Bexar and Rose play from his little prison. 

Don't cry, baby. Bex, get his pacifier." Laura instructed. 

Quickly, Bexar grabbed Stiles' pacifier from the coffee table. He sauntered over to the playpen and shoved the soother in the younger pup's mouth. Stiles gagged and whined. He didn't like this game; in fact, he hated it. Carefully, Stiles began to climb out of the play yard. Maybe he could go play with Liam or Kira or Malia. 

"No, baby!" Bexar whispered furiously, "You stay in there or I'll spank you! Bad baby!" 

He pushed Stiles back into the playpen, leaving the brunette startled and scared. He didn't want to be spanked and he didn't want to make Derek mad and he didn't want to be the big baby no one wanted to play with. Misery devoured Stiles as he began to cry, hurt and fear settling in the pit of his stomach. 

****

"Kiddos! Snack time!" Rose called cheerfully.

Stiles jumped to his feet, bouncing in the playpen. He hadn't really noticed how hungry he was. Hopefully Derek had sliced an apple for him, or maybe a banana. Maybe he was even going to get some peanut butter. Bexar and Laura cheered as they ran into the kitchen, completely ignoring Stiles as they did so. Stiles called out to them. They weren't going to leave him, were they? They had to help him get out! He couldn't get out by himself without getting in trouble. 

Stiles' pleas fell on deaf ears. Neither one of his "playmates" came back to help him. Defeated, Stiles sat down, hugging his Husky tightly and biting his lip to keep himself from crying. Now he was all alone, hungry, and - Stiles shifted uncomfortably - wet. _No wonder Bexar wanted you to be the baby,_ Stiles thought miserably, _you're acting like one. All you do is cry and play with dumb toys and you have to wear diapers. This is why Derek likes Bexar more. He's not waste of space like you._ Stiles angrily rubbed his eyes as a few tears trailed down his face. He just wanted to be a good boy. Why were Laura and Bexar making it hard to be a good boy? 

Derek smiled as the other kids entered the room, waiting for his little one. He didn't worry when Stiles didn't show up right away. The pup was easily distracted. It was after ten minutes without hide nor hair of the teen that Derek felt panic start to settle in his belly. 

"Where is Stiles?" Derek asked. 

Bexar shrugged, suddenly interested in the number of raisins on his celery stalk. "The baby wasn't hungry." 

Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "That's not like him. Stiles is always hungry. I'll go get him." 

Rose shot a stern glance at her children, who pretended not to notice her. Derek wandered into the playroom. He could hear muffled cries and whimpers which pulled at his heart. 

"Pup, where are you?" Derek called as he entered the room. 

"P-Papa? Don't spank me, please! I didn't-I wasn't trying to be bad, I just wanted to be a big boy. I didn't get out of the playpen, see? I wasn't bad. I promise. Please don't be mad, Papa." Stiles sobbed. 

Derek rushed to the playpen and lifted Stiles out. The poor teen looked terrified, his body quaking and his cheeks stained with tears. Derek rubbed Stiles' back gently, cooing and shushing him as they rocked slightly together. A hand gripped at Derek's shirtsleeve and another tangled itself in the hair near the base of his neck. It was as if Stiles was desperate for contact. 

Noticing the pacifier in the playpen, Derek reached down to grab it. All he had to do was let Stiles catch a glimpse of it before the brunette was reaching for it. 

"There you go, pup. Just calm down. Can you tell Papa what happened? Why do you think you're in trouble?" Derek asked. 

"Th-They w-wanted to play h-house and I-I didn't want to be the baby and th-they said I wasn't playing nice and so I said I'd be the b-baby. A-And Bexar s-said sp-spank me if I got out and th-that'd you'd be r-really mad a-and I-I just want a sn-snack, too." Stiles stammered, his voice shaking in worry and fear. 

"That wasn't very nice. We'll fix this. You weren't being bad, Stiles; you're allowed to say you don't want to do things. Let's go get your snack and then we'll go see if everyone is back from the bookstore." 

"You aren't mad?" 

"At you? Not even a little bit." 

Stiles nodded and allowed Derek to carry him into the kitchen. As long as his Papa wasn't mad, it was all okay. Derek set Stiles in a chair and set a plate of peanut butter, celery, and raisins in front of him. A kiss was placed to Stiles' hair before he began to eat. 

"I'll be right back, pup. Rose and I just have to discuss something." Derek said. 

Stiles nodded, stealing a quick glance at Bexar. It wasn't as if Bexar would do anything mean with his mom and Derek right outside the room. Munching on a celery stalk, Stiles waved to Derek, trying not to feel the pang of trepidation in his chest.


	29. Chapter 29

Stiles had taken to quietly playing by Derek after the playpen fiasco. He would sit at Derek's feet with his Husky, blanky, and a rattle or teething ring and pretend that his Husky was a police officer. It was far more fun than playing with Bexar, who had done nothing but glare and scowl at him since he had gotten in trouble. Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' hair. Stiles grabbed Derek's hand and nipped gently at his fingers. Maybe he could get his Papa to play with him. A surprised chuckle escaped Derek at the gesture. Stiles hadn't shown very many wolf pup traits, like nipping, and it was admittedly a bit adorable.

"What are you doing, pup? Are you being silly?" Derek asked. 

"Just playing, Papa, not real, bad biting." Stiles explained. 

"Well, Papa can also play that game." 

Derek nipped softly at the nape of Stiles' neck, about where a wolf would carry their pup. Stiles giggled and nibbled at Derek's hand once more. The love bite actually had Derek wincing. The fangs Stiles had been trying to cut still hadn't come in fully, but they were coming in sharp. Stiles whimpered. Had he hurt Derek? 

"Sorry, Papa." Stiles said. 

"It's not your fault. Pup fangs are naturally very sharp. It's okay." Derek comforted. 

Stiles bit his lip, uncertain. Derek was probably just trying to make him feel better. He was still rubbing his hand where Stiles had bitten him. What if Derek got some crazy werewolf infection? Then he would get really sick and go away, just like Stiles' mom. Derek kissed Stiles' forehead, his heart clenching at the sight of the pup's trembling lip and watery eyes. Stiles didn't want Derek to die. He didn't want to be alone. 

Jackson walked into the kitchen as Derek picked up Stiles and held him close. The sight made Jackson smile; it reminded him that Derek was so standoffish because he loved Stiles so much and that under all the leather and growling, the man was actually very sweet. Jackson almost didn't want to interrupt them. However, his pectorals were swollen and he needed to nurse Stiles. 

"Hey, Derek. Hey, little man. Are you cuddling with your Papa?" Jackson asked, ruffling Stiles' hair. 

"I gave Papa a werewolf disease." Stiles said sullenly. 

"What? I'm sure you didn't. I think your Papa is completely and totally impervious to werewolf diseases." 

"What do you want, Jackson?" Derek asked sharply. 

"It's time for Stiles to nurse. He's probably getting hungry." 

Derek nodded and hesitantly handed Stiles over to Jackson, who smiled and bounced Stiles happily as he cooed to him. Stiles giggled and clapped as Jackson made silly face to cheer him up. The display made Derek want to gag. It wasn't as if Jackson was that great; why could he make Stiles laugh? Maybe babies were just easy to amuse. Yes, that had to be it. Jackson settled himself in a chair at the table and began to unbutton his shirt. Stiles was attempting to latch on before Jackson was even ready. 

"Whoa, Stiles, let Jax get his shirt off first. You're just a hungry little man, aren't you?" Jackson cooed. 

A chuckle escaped Jackson as Stiles eagerly began to drink. It was still strange to be able to breastfeed. It wasn't something Jackson had ever thought of doing, but now? He couldn't imagine not doing it. Feeling Stiles in his arms, so dependent on him and so loving, made him happy. 

"Derek! Derek! Play with me!" Bexar exclaimed excitedly, skidding into the kitchen. 

Derek reached out to catch the other pup before he toppled over. Bexar just laughed and climbed into Derek's lap, nuzzling up under his chin. A bit of anger filled Derek at the gesture. He didn't need Stiles to feel any worse than he already did. Seeing Bexar cuddled up to him would make Stiles absolutely miserable. With a pout, Bexar turned to Stiles and Jackson. His eyes widened with curiosity. He had never seen anything like this. What was the baby doing? Tugging on Derek's sleeve, Bexar pointed to the duo. 

"What's the baby doing, Derek?" Bexar asked. 

"He's eating, kiddo. Jackson's giving him milk." Derek explained. 

"Don't babies drink out of bottles?" 

"They do. Stiles does sometimes, but he has to drink from Jackson, too." 

"That's gross." 

"Don't be mean, Bexar. It's not gross." 

"He's putting his mouth on his Daddy's no-no parts. Gross." 

Derek groaned quietly. He wasn't winning this one. Jackson glared at him. 

"Bexar, go play. Let Stiles eat." Derek said. 

"Fine. I'll go play with dumb Laura until Gabe gets home. Mama said she be home soon." Bexar grumbled. 

Once Bexar had left, Jackson began to speak his mind. He had felt Stiles tense against him as Bexar came running. It was obvious that Stiles didn't like the other pup; why couldn't Derek see that? 

"You know that makes Stiles upset." Jackson said. 

"I know. I can't push him away, though. It would be an act of aggression toward the Mysteria pack. I've also known Rose since I was a kid. I met Bexar a few years ago when Rose's husband died and he was kind of attached to me from the beginning. I suppose I'm like a father figure to him." Derek said. 

"You're Stiles' Papa, though. He needs you; he's _yours._ If you know he doesn't like Bexar, why are you giving Bexar so much attention? It seems a little cruel." 

"Very ironic coming from the man who once shoved Stiles in a locker full of dirty lacrosse equipment and left him there overnight." 

Jackson looked as though he had been slapped. It was a low blow, bringing up the past. He had been trying so hard to escape it, to show Stiles that he could be trusted. What the fuck had he ever done to Derek to deserve this? Jackson switched Stiles to the opposite side. Maybe he was never going to prove himself to Derek - that was a possibility he had to prepare for. 

****

The fact that Rose had another son made Stiles' skin crawl. Another Bexar was the last thing Stiles wanted or needed right now. He watched as Rose introduced the pack to her six year old son, Gabe, while sucking furiously on a pacifier. Scott clapped his hands before holding out his arms. Reaching up, Stiles allowed Scott to pick him up.

"Hey, buddy. Do you want to meet Gabe?" Scott asked. 

Stiles shook his head, looking at Scott with wide, scared eyes. He didn't want to meet Gabe. What if he, Bexar, and Laura all teamed up and trapped him in the playpen again? What if he had to share his Papa even more and then Derek decided he liked Rose's pups more than him? What if the whole pack decided they liked the other kids better? Scott rubbed Stiles' back soothingly. He hadn't thought Stiles would be so resistant to meeting new people. 

"Oh, a baby! He's littler than Bexar, Mommy. What's his name?" Gabe asked. 

"His name is Stiles, sweetheart. He plays lacrosse, just like you! He's shy, though, and you need to be extra gentle because he's very little, okay?" Rose asked. 

Gabe nodded, his eyes wide with wonder. Stiles looked down at him before shyly burying his face in the crook of Scott's neck. Scott chuckled. 

"Come on, don't you want to play with Gabe?" Scott asked. 

"I have _PAW Patrol_ puppies! You like puppies, right?" Gabe asked hopefully. 

"Do you - do you have Chase? He's my favorite." Stiles whispered. 

"Me too! Can we play _PAW Patrol_ , Mommy? I'll watch Stiles really good! Please?" 

Rose laughed. "Maybe you should ask his Daddy, baby." 

"Please, Mr. Scott?" 

"Yeah, sure. Be a good boy, okay, Stiles?" Scott asked. 

"Okay, Scotty. I'll be the best boy." Stiles promised. 

Scott kissed the bridge of Stiles' nose before setting him down to play. Now they could make their way into the woods without Stiles having a fit. 

****

"Now, now, little one, your pack will be back soon. If you close your eyes and go to sleep, your Daddy and Papa will be back before you know it." Rose cooed, rocking Stiles gently.

Stiles struggled in her hold. He didn't want to sleep! He wanted his Papa and Dada and Scotty! He wanted to go home! Rose sighed and reached for a pacifier on the coffee table, popping it into Stiles' mouth. The poor baby needed sleep, and he was going to get it whether he wanted it or not. 

"Laura, sweetie, get the special juice for me, please." Rose said. 

Laura skipped into the kitchen, returning with a small plastic bottle only moments later. Rose put Stiles on the couch as she measured out a dose of the melatonin in the bottle. Quickly, she pushed the spoon between Stiles' lips, ignoring the pup's unhappy sputters. At least someone would be sleeping tonight. 

****

"Papa! Papa, Papa, Papa!" Stiles cried, hugging Derek tightly.

"There's my pup. Did you sleep well last night?" Derek asked. 

Stiles shook his head. "Missed you guys. Why did you just leave? I-I was scared, Papa." 

The whole pack looked properly shamed. Sure, they had accomplished what they needed to, but it may have been a bit underhanded to just leave when Stiles was distracted. Stiles made a round around the table to hug each pack member and stopped at Liam, settling into his lap happily. Liam kissed his hair with a smile. 

"Did you get the bad wolves?" Stiles asked. 

"We did. Ran them right out of town." Liam said proudly. 

"Can we go home? I miss Dada." 

"Yes, Stiles. We'll start packing after breakfast and by this afternoon we'll be on the road." Lydia said. 

Stiles nodded. He wanted to be home more than anything else. He wasn't sure that he wanted to have anymore playmates any time soon. Except Gabe. It would definitely be okay if he came to play with Gabe again. Rose put a hand on Derek's shoulder with a sigh. 

"I'm sorry about Bexar and Laura, Derek. We're not really used to baby pups." She said. 

"I won't say it's okay, but it's not really your fault. Bexar is the baby here and he's not really used to not being the center of attention. Stiles loved Gabe, though." Derek said. 

"Gabe's my sweet kid. Thank you for your help, Derek. And thank you, Alpha McCall, for allowing your pack to come to my aid." 

"It's just Scott, and you're welcome." Scott said. 

With expressions of gratitude out of the way, everyone settled in for breakfast. Stiles ate in Malia's lap, giggling as Liam and Danny and Derek continued their baseball versus lacrosse argument. Kira and Lydia had Peter locked in some conversation about a recent true crime novel. Stiles leaned back against Malia with a sigh. He finally knew what having a big family was like, and he loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! I'm sorry about the wait, but writer's block is something I am most definitely not immune to. Thank you all for reading and giving this story all of the kudos and comments you have. This story wouldn't be where it is now without you!


	30. Mini Chapter: Itchy

Stiles couldn't stop scratching. Everything itched: his face, his arms, his torso. He looked to Lydia and Danny, who were packing while the other pack members put a few protective precautions around the house for Rose. Should he tell them that he was super itchy? Stiles scratched at his cheek again. Maybe he should just let it go.

Danny looked down at Stiles, smiling softly as the pup scratched at himself. Tapping Lydia on the shoulder, Danny pointed to Stiles. She raised an eyebrow as she knelt down beside Stiles and cupped his cheek. 

"Sweetie, are you okay? Why are you scratching yourself?" Lydia asked. 

"I don't know. I'm just itchy. Sorry." Stiles said. 

"Hey, that's not your fault. Don't apologize. Do you know why you're itchy?" Danny asked. 

"No." 

"Hmm. You've got a little rash. Danny, do you see it? The bumps?" Lydia asked. 

"Yeah, I see it. It can't be his clothes; they've been washed in the right detergent. And he hasn't eaten anything different or anything." Danny said. 

"Stiles, sweetie, did anyone give you anything you don't usually have? A new food or drink, new soap, something like that." 

Stiles thought about it, his head cocked. He didn't think that he was even allergic to anything. However, there was that gross medicine Rose gave him last night to help him sleep. However, that couldn't be why he was breaking out in a rash. It had only been melatonin; that was something that was naturally made in the body. Lydia gave Stiles a small pat on the back. 

"Well, Rose gave me some medicine to help me sleep last night. But it was just melatonin! That can't cause rashes." Stiles said. 

"Oh, Stiles, liquid melatonin isn't pure melatonin. There are other ingredients in it." Lydia cooed. 

"I think you're having a minor allergic reaction. We should tell Scott and Derek. I don't think they'll be very happy that Rose drugged Stiles." Danny said. 

" _I'm_ not happy that she gave Stiles medicine to put him to sleep. You just needed your Papa and Daddy, a bottle, and some cuddles, didn't you, Stiles? Come on, let's go talk to the others." 

Lydia and Danny each took one of Stiles' hands and helped him to his feet. For a moment, Stiles wobbled slightly, as if his legs were going to give out from under him, but he gained his balance and began walking down the stairs. Derek and Peter were at the front door, rubbing a paste of herbs around the door frame, while Scott, Malia, and Liam sprinkled a powder around the living room and kitchen. Stiles hustled over to Derek and made grabby hands. He picked Stiles up. 

"Hi, pup. Have you been helping Lydia and Danny pack?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded before scratching at his face. Derek frowned. 

"What are you doing? Don't pick at it. You will get sores." Derek chastised. 

"Sorry, Papa, I'm just itchy. Danny says I have a rash." Stiles said softly. 

"A rash? From what?" 

"The melatonin Rose gave him last night. Speaking of, I need to see if there's some Benadryl around here. It'll clear that rash up." Lydia said, wandering into the kitchen. 

"When did she give him melatonin?" 

"Last night," Stiles said with a sniffle, "I couldn't sleep and she said it would help and now I'm all itchy." 

Derek quickly passed Stiles off to Peter and stormed into the kitchen. Rose was standing there with a none too happy Lydia. Derek told Lydia to get Stiles to take the Benadryl and watched her as she sashayed out of the room. He turned to Rose. 

"You drugged my pup." He growled, teeth gritted. 

"It was only melatonin, Der. He was having a lot of trouble falling asleep." Rose defended. 

"You still gave Stiles medicine without consulting any of us. Worse, you gave him medicine to put him to sleep because just didn't want to deal with him. Babies don't just go to sleep, especially not him. He needs lullabies and hugs and warm milk. He needs to rocked." 

"He needed to sleep. I do it for Bexar all the time. They need to self-soothe, Derek. He's got to be a big boy sometimes." 

"No, he doesn't! He's a pup and we have spent too much time getting him comfortable, teaching him that all his needs are okay. You can't just medicate him without consent. That's illegal." 

"Come off it. I'm sorry, Derek, but he wouldn't stop crying. He would have woken up Gabe and Bexar." 

"I. Don't. Care. Look, just leave Stiles alone. We'll be out of here by noon and you won't have to worry about him being too much of a handful." 

"Derek, don't be so dramatic." 

"I'm not. You hurt my pup. I'm doing what any Papa would do. You should feel lucky that Malia and Scott didn't find out." 

Rose stared at Derek as he retreated back into the living room. Her face fell. Perhaps she had been out of line. However, she stood firmly in her point of view. Drastic measures had to be taken sometimes.


End file.
